As I sauntered along the shores of the Ganges River in Rishikesh several years ago, I was given a gift.

As I ambled, headed upstream in a relaxed kind of mood on that sandy riverbank, I happened to glance down. There, right at my foot I noticed a small shell. Flat with the stereotypical fan shape so many shells have, and a about a centimetre  across. I picked it up.

At that moment I sensed that this little shell was a gift from the river to me. Still, I had to wonder how it got there, a seashell on the sandy banks of a freshwater river with it’s source not too far from where I stood, just a bit higher up in the Himalayas – the highest mountain range on the surface of the planet.

One possibility is that this shell originated in the sea that once existed in the lands above, where the Himalayas now stand. Mind you, I’ve only ever heard of the fossils of sea creatures being found in that region.

Another possibility suggested to me at the time, is that some other traveller having picked up the shell on a beach somewhere other on their travels, kept it with them till they arrived at this sacred place.

Then, perhaps as an offering that traveller – fellow pilgrim?- let that shell go into the waters of Maa Ganga.

Of course it doesen’t matter in the least which – if either – of these scenarios  reflect what actually happened. Somehow this little shell travelled from an ocean somewhere (and somewhen!) to this precise spot on the banks of the Ganga to be discovered, to be gifted to me.

I received that offering, now a gift from the river to me, with a deep and prayerful thank you, and a sense of the sacredness of that moment and of that place.

And, today, the journey made by that little shell, has come to a kind of full circle. This morning I released it to Varuna, to the sea here on the Pacific Coast at the beach over the dunes from the hermitage.

That initial giving and receiving  took place about eight years ago now and I have that little shell with me ever since.

First I wore it around my neck attached to a mala (prayer beads) made of Rudraksha seeds I used for chanting mantra.

After that, it migrated to another mala – this one made of beads of black volcanic rock, perhaps very fitting given the little shell’s possibly ancient origins.

Then, one day about a year or so ago, that little shell developed a crack and then shattered into several little pieces.

Still, I treasured those remains, those fragment I kept with my other ‘holy bits and pieces’. Then, after a while, I began to get the sense that I was going to have to return this little shell to the sea from where it had come.

I knew, though, that it would have to be the right place, a place I was drawn or led to. So, time passed, we travelled to several different hermitages for about a year.

Then, two days ago, we moved here. To a cozy hermitage on the side of a sand dune, just across a bridge from and on the outskirts of a little seaside town on the Pacific Coast of Australia.

It’s one of those spots where the elevation, distance, and whatever else by nature’s arrangement, all combine in just the right way to allow a vast view that takes the eyes to the curve of Earth herself; the horizon isn’t flat here, it’s a sweeping giant curve. Add to this the equally dramatic view offered by the dome of the sky.

The coast is beautiful here. Not that it’s not special in so many places, but there is something here that speaks to me.

At the top of the dune just beside the hermitage there is an extremely convenient bench seat overlooking the beauty of the ocean.

And it just felt right: here is the place that seeks the return of the remains of that little shell, by now reduced to a couple of small fragments.

So, after a time sitting and contemplating at the above-mentioned convenient seat, I walked down the dune to the beach, and then to the water’s edge. In a mood of prayer, with the edge of the incoming waves lapping at my feet.

After first consigning to the water a shell native to this shore, to show the way to my little shell, I thought of the journey that little shell and I had undertaken together. Then I thought of how far and for how long that little shell had travelled so far on its own journey.

Then I returned what was left of that little shell to the sea from which it had come. And I watched it carried by the waves returning from the sands of the land to waters of the endless ocean.

PS See the Lava Rock Mala? Well, it too has changed form in recent times. It is now no longer a full length neck mala; it has evolved to become a compact and convenient pocket Mala for what you might say is ‘everyday use.

Things of beauty are, like all things made of

material stuff, transient.

Beauty, however, is not