Cathy Le Feuvre

Treasures Among the Stones

In recent months I've begun to collect sea glass.

If you don't know what that is ... well, sea glass is bits of glass which have washed up onto beaches!

When you find a piece of sea glass it's not just a thing of beauty to behold, but it has it's own story to tell! 

At some point the glass was probably part of a bottle or something else fashioned of glass and who knows where it came from in the world? The sea currents could have brought it from far-off oceans and coasts until it is finally broken up into the smaller pieces that pitch up on our Jersey beaches.

After being battered about in the waves and on the sands, probably for many years, it's usually smooth, not jagged ... although at times I do find 'newer' pieces which are a bit lethal and which, obviously, go straight into the bin! So my sea glass hunting is also helping to clean the sand to prevent accidents to unsuspecting bare feet.

Here in my home island of Jersey in the Channel Islands, sea glass has often been used to create beautiful things. Some artists work sea glass into their pictures and create fabulous jewellery from the items which can be discovered on our many beaches. 

I've been doing quite a lot of sea swimming and walking on beaches in the last few years as I've tried to handle the stresses of life, changing circumstances and the ensuing mental health challenges that have come my way, and this year I've begun searching for sea glass.

Inspired by a canvas that a friend gave me as a Christmas gift - an image of a festive tree created out of pale green, bluish, clear and white sea glass - I decided (as you do, even if you're not an artist) ...' I could do that!' 

And so at times, I find myself wandering up and down beaches, looking for the little bits of glass among the stones and detritus which the tide has washed up. And, as a result, I'm amassing a little store of pretty glass ... much of it clear and milky, some blues and greens of various shades. All different shapes and sizes.

Recently I took a walk at La Mare Beach in St Clement on the east coast of Jersey and beyond to the area called Le Dicq, which I know is good for sea glass and also little bits of pottery including blue and white ceramics from a piece of crockery which at some point probably graced a kitchen dresser or a dining table. 

It was low tide, and not quite sunset,  a perfect time for sea glass hunting, and apart from a few other walkers I had the beach to myself. I'd had a pretty stressful 24 hours so I needed to clear my head and, to be honest, I wasn't confident of finding much glass. I'm a person of Christian faith, and I was listening to some encouraging music which assured me that in the storms of life I have a friend who is there for me - Jesus Christ - and that nothing is impossible with God, even when we are faced by uncertainty and what we may consider insurmountable problems.

At first, I only found a couple of little pieces of sea glass. But the closer I looked, the further I walked, suddenly I began to spot more ... and more ... and more.

A small piece of glass hidden among the stones on the shore, a shard on its own in the sand, and then a few quite large pieces smoothed and shaped from years of weather and wearing just sitting there waiting to be discovered.

And it occurred to me that sea glass and sea glass hunting is like life, and like my journey of faith.

Sometimes I am so overwhelmed with the challenges of life, and worried about the future, that I miss the beauty of the moment. I miss the sparkling treasure sitting there, right in front of me, just waiting to be discovered and used for something new and beautiful.

When I looked closely, even at a pile of stone and rocks and seaweed, suddenly a tiny piece of glass would sparkle in the setting sun over the beach. I was reminded that sometimes I might have to sift through some of the challenges of life to find beauty. I might have to ignore the detritus of my life to find moments of joy and love and hope. I  might have to keep looking and keep looking for the good ... but trusting that it's there to be found!

The interesting thing about sea glass hunting is the more you look for it, the more you see. I walked probably half a mile up the beach and then turned around, following mostly the same route I had taken on the walk up ... and yet as I made my way back to the carpark and my vehicle, I spotted glass I had missed the first time around.

Maybe that was because I was looking more intently now, or perhaps because I was looking at the beach, and the race of stones and rocks on the shore, from a slightly different angle. I'm sure you're getting my drift on this ... sometimes we miss joy and peace and hope and beauty but then, when we return to the situation, and maybe look at life with a different mindset or from a different angle, we find all those treasures in exactly the places we may have missed them before!

It also occurred to me that once the tide has come in again, once the water has shifted things around and churned things up, it will leave more treasures on the sand, and new beautiful objects that wash up on that tide. But the water may also uncover and reveal bits of sea glass which may be hidden tight now but once the piles of stones and rocks and seaweed are moved around, they are there ... to be discovered.

As I walked along that beach, listening to my inspirational music, I found myself asking God to help me ... to help me not to obsess so much about the challenges and rocks in my life but to seek out the beautiful things, the hope and the miracles which may be just waiting for me if I can but see them. If I but look for them! If I make myself aware that they may be there!

Some people call this talking to God  'praying' ... not in the way that you might pray in a church or a temple, which can sometimes be rather formal, but just having a 'chat'. Not just talking to God but also listening. Most importantly ... listening.

And so, on this particular sea glass hunt I clearly heard God's voice as I walked and talked with and listened to him.

I heard him say ... something like this...

'Look for the beautiful things, they are there but may be hidden.'

'Your life may be full of rocks but, like the tide, my love can wash away those challenges if you let me do so, and treasures and happiness and insights and joys which at the moment may be hidden in your grief, confusion, uncertainty and hurt will be uncovered, will be there ready for you to discover.'

In the end, I gathered quite a little hoard of lovely sea glass on my walk, to add to my collection at home - and one day I will create something beautiful. At the moment I don't know what that will be ... perhaps, as in life, we don't need to plan everything meticulously in advance but just see what comes when we are ready to create! 

There are Treasures Among the Stones of life ... perhaps we just need to look more intently and patiently, to try to see beyond the rocks in our lives and instead be alert to the blessings that are granted to us and believe ... a Better Life is on the way!

And, as if to prove His promises, at the end of the day I was blessed with one of God's most beautiful creations ... a most glorious sunset!

How great is that?

A Sunday Afternoon Swim

One of the things I love to do is to swim! 

I learned to swim when I was quite little, and I've always enjoyed it - even the many hours of swimming training at school...preparations for many a swim meet. I wasn't world class (and actually I'm not that competitive), but it was fun! 

In recent years, however, swimming has become more and more important as well as enjoyable.

It's not just the exercise, although that of course is great. I also find  being in the water so relaxing. In the pool, just swimming up and down, up and down, up and down, you get a rhythm that is quite mindful. And when in the ocean, those mindful moments are enhanced by the presence of the fresh air, the salt on your lips, the feeling of buoyancy in the salty water.  I find it easy to clear my mind of stress when I'm looking at the surface of the ocean and into the horizon beyond. For me, it's a helpful mindfulness technique which allows me just to be ... rather than worrying about things I cannot change, past and future. 

Living in the lovely island of Jersey in the Channel Islands, where there are so many beaches and bays and swimming opportunities, I can often - or at least when time allows - be found in the water. In the summer, of course, it's a great place to be ... but even when the water is colder I find sea swimming really helpful for my wellbeing and mental health.

In recent years, which have been quite emotionally and physically draining at times, even a quick dip and a short sit in the sunshine, a quiet few moments to myself, has just been invaluable.  

Many people here in Jersey swim throughout the year and while I've not done that, I do start when the sea temperature rises to about 10°C. Which means that this year I stepped into the ocean in April.

Admittedly, it's a bit nippy at first, but I have some gear ... some sea gloves and special boots, and a big dry robe to wrap myself in after my swim. And the feeling of the chilly, salty water on my skin, the capture of my breath when the cold hits me, and even the little brain freeze that can sometimes happen early on in the swimming season are just exhilarating!

This year, I've decided to chart some of my swimming with a bit of a 'swimming diary', and today I dipped at the beautiful Bouley Bay on the north coast of Jersey where the swimming this afternoon was simply gorgeous. The sun sparkled on the water and the coast of France, not too far away, was visible in the distance.

The water is gradually warming up... today the general sea temperature in Jersey was apparently around 13°C.... so things ARE warming up. And, of course, it helps when the sun is out and the wind isn't blowing a gale.

It's an opportunity to share with you not just my swimming experiences, but something of the beauty of the island I call home.

Today, in the sheltered Bouley Bay, which even around low tide still has plentiful swimming water...the experience was everything!

Here's my little film, which I posted first on social media.... 

Enjoy!

 

Caution! World Under Repair

It's New Year's Eve 2020.

And if you weren't already aware, we're at the end of ... here we go ... I'll say it .... 'a very strange year'!

There - that's done! 

I could say much about the different ways we've learned to live, the things we've missed out on, the expectations dashed, the woes of the past almost 12 months during which a microscopic virus has locked us in, locked us out! Of life, of love, of the things and people and activities and experiences we love.

But I won't! Done that, been there, along with millions of others who have put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard this year!

I'll just tell you about a walk I took this lunchtime which, weirdly, turned out to be a bit of an analogy for life as we travel from 2020 into 2021. 

I live in a lovely place called Jersey - it's one of the Channel Islands, just off the coast of France, but British - and walks on the beach, or at least along the coastline, are my favourite!

One of my usual walks is from West Park, St Helier, to First Tower and back ... not more than a mile or two all told, but bracing on a winter's day!

I set out in the sunshine but we've been having a lot of showers recently and right at the start of my walk I spotted a rainbow.

Not a massive arc in the sky, but certainly a rainbow ... the kind which popped up in the early days of the pandemic in windows and on pebbles on the beach, drawn by unknown people as a symbol of hope in the darkness.

And straightaway I was filled with a strange optimism.

 

Yes, the sky was dark on the horizon, clouds still full of rain, ominous over Elizabeth Castle on the little islet in St Aubin's Bay,  but the sky above was strikingly blue.

2020 might have been full of gloom but in all that there has also been some brightness. Remember how we all pulled together in those early days, to keep ourselves safe, to keep others safe?  Remember how we kept our distance, washed our hands, wore our masks ?Remember how we clapped for our carers at 8pm on a Thursday evening, showing our appreciation for all those who were caring for us in hospitals and care homes, serving us in the shops and on public transport ? Keeping our communities working ? Saying 'thank you' to those who are usually forgotten but who, for a while, we realised were the real heroes of our communities.

But I looked into those dark clouds and was reminded  that it's not over yet. The second spike of this wretched coronavirus is hitting us hard not just here in Jersey but across the world. People are still sick, dying in vast numbers, isolating. Some people are still unfortunately not behaving like we are in the midst of a global pandemic. Some seem to have forgotten the sacrifices of the early months of this year, and the ongoing sacrifices that some are still making to ensure the ones they love stay safe. For some of us that means still working from home after nearly a year, forgoing the company of even our close family at Christmas and New Year and on birthdays and other special anniversaries. 

But as I peered into the horizon I spotted something really beautiful ... like a golden line just on the sealine, under the cloud. Just where the sun was hitting the water.

And then I looked up ... there IS blue sky overhead.

Could I equate that to the Covid-19 vaccines which are on the way ?

Perhaps! That's one way of looking at it.

But maybe it's about more  than that. 

It reminded me that when we pull together and remember that others matter as much as ourselves, maybe sometimes more than ourselves, we can get a handle on this! We did it in the spring and summer of 2020 and then we lost focus. We thought we could relax. We believed that we were invincible. We were wrong!

Along the seafront in St Aubin's Bay in Jersey the pink granite seawalls have recently taken a battering from the storms, the high seas, the winds of winter. They are hardy and strong, but even they couldn't stand the onslaught of nature.

But they are being repaired - even on New Year's Eve the guys were out doing their stuff to rebuild these beautiful defences.  It's not a job that will be completed overnight. It must be done with precision and care to ensure that the wall survives when the storms come again, as we know they will! 

As we enter 2021 I am reminded that we are in this for the long haul. Our World is 'Under Repair'!

We are not there yet. Even with the much acclaimed and longed for vaccines, we still have a long way to go. We still need to wear masks, keep our distances, endlessly sanitise our hands. There's no letting up. 

But if we all pull together, try to forgo our personal agendas and think of the wider common good, then with the added bonus of the vaccines, we may find that this coming year will be healthier and better than the last. We need to stay alert and not forget the year that was 2020. There are lessons in that there time for us all! 

The storm is still there ... over the horizon ... and it will come back I'm sure. But the blues skies are overhead! 

Happy New Year everyone! Stay safe! 

*All pictures /images by Cathy Le Feuvre

                                                                                                                                                      

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Breezy Walk!

A Day like Today

Winter is on the way.

How do I know this? Well,  the date on the calendar, for one thing, tells me we are in the last few months of 2018.  Soon enough the days will grow cooler, even colder and the trees will be stripped of their foliage helped by the sharp winds blowing off the sea, and the rain will undoubtedly set in for days, even weeks, and perhaps the world will turn white. 

The days will be dark and long, days of bundling up in thick coats and scarves, and hats and gloves, wrapped up against the cold and rain, and even snow. On those days it will feel, as it always does, that winter will not end, that the darkness will never cease. That never again will the sun warm our bones, or the water feel warm against our skin.

It's on those days that I will remember days like today.

A day to walk on the beach, listening to the waves crash on the shore, paddling my feet in the warm ocean. Feeling the sun on my skin, relishing the final moments of a long hot summer which has managed to extend into the end of autumn.

 

It's on bad days, when nothing is right and there seems to be no hope for the future that we can remember the days when life was great, knowing that just as the tide comes in and out, in and out, in and out every day, the sad moments won't last and good times will return.

There will be warm days again, even when the world has chilled our bodies and our hearts and even our spirits to the core. Even when there seems to be no hope in life, we will remember days like this when life and spirits were high and all was well with the world.

How do we know this? Well,  if we've been given good days in the past we surely will receive them again. For me, that just makes sense. It's the circle of life. It's all a matter of faith, and hope.