We all have salt water in our veins. The sea is part of us. It can control our entire journey. The ocean envelops us and beckons us home. It will pull us in farther and hold on to us longer than we want. Then, it will spit us out on a whim, tossing us ashore with tortuous force, as if we never mattered at all.
Beauty, destruction, chaos, and art all result from those salty waves. Finding sea glass in Maine gives us tangible proof of what the tides can create, if given enough time. The ocean takes sharp, discarded slivers and tosses them, buries them, and at times, forgets them. The fickle tides will throw those slivers ashore, yank them back from the edge of freedom, and toss them some more. Over the course of decades, those waves rarely relent. They never forget for too long. As the sea glass is battered, caressed, and beautifully tortured, the edges soften. It becomes smooth and hazy. It gives up the jagged exterior to become something much different, something almost unrecognizable.
Over a lifetime, that sea glass might have the same chemical make-up, but it is most certainly changed. That unpredictable change is beautiful because it creates uniqueness. There can never be two pieces exactly alike. No two pieces share the same journey or live the same torture. No two pieces are buried at the same times or in the same places.
The salt water in our veins and the chaos of our own journey smooths our edges and make us less jagged. It changes and tortures us. It makes us different than how we started and how we thought we’d end up. Regardless of how hazy, smooth, buried, or lost we become, someone somewhere will appreciate our uniqueness. Someone somewhere will pluck us from the grips of that chaos and admire our beauty. Someone somewhere will appreciate the journey that made us what we’ve become—a work of art. We are all sea glass, weathered by the salt water, the journey, and time.