Matter is created In the raw depths. Getting there takes fortitude – carrying on, motoring through, shoveling out the muck.
Maybe there is precious metal and a few gems to uncover, and clean up for display – to show it was worth the toil.
As a child, I dug in the sand for hours, carefully piling the wet sand out of the hole. A wave rode into my nearly finished pit – crumbling it to a smooth dent – and I sat there in tears for all my lost work.
My brother was working further up on the beach, but the sand wasn’t wet enough. I told him it wasn’t going to work, but he was happy digging and watching it fill, content to throw sand around.
I took the pail and filled it with water and began pooling the water in the smaller hole I carved out near my brother. When the water stayed in the pool, we dug a trench down to the wave line and kept filling the bucket, pouring it into the pool, and watching it run down our trench until we tired of it.
We ended up making a moat around a sand hill and defended the fort from the sea-gull enemy by chucking shells and wet sand at them. They didn’t play along, but kept away from the crazy humans, thus ensuring our defensive victory.
Like the gulls of long ago, I’ve become my unwitting enemy. I might prove a formidable foe now that I recognize the game.
© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Life On Earth’s Blog, 2010 – infinity.