I wandered the beach yesterday in search of the perfect shell. I scanned the sandy Oregon shore littered with sea debris, seeking out a complete shell. As my eyes wandered over the incredible landscape, I found myself continually hoping to discover the image of perfection.
I glimpsed several possibilities throughout my wanderings before I thought I spotted ‘The One.’
As I stopped to pick up a beloved, whole sand dollar, I thought I’d finally claimed my prize.
Yet as I grasped my treasure, brushing away the sand to better admire its beauty, I unexpectedly discovered I was feeling conflicted about calling this shell beautiful. I found myself contemplating why I only choose to see beauty in the complete, in the whole, in the flawless. What was it that made me only find joy in the supposedly perfect?
Disappointed in this realization, I quickly discarded the sand dollar. As my image of ideal perfection had suddenly found…
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