It was just before dawn. The beach was deserted. An earlier tide had washed away yesterday’s footprints leaving the sand smooth with just a thin strip of shell hash. And while the sun hadn’t yet claimed the day, there were thin lines of phosphorescent red outlining the smattering of clouds on the horizon.

It wasn’t until I entered that quiet place of my walking meditation that I saw it. Tracks. Out of place. Unrecognizable, yet strangely familiar. They almost looked like snowmobile tracks, something I had seen many times living in New England. Then it hit me. They were sea turtle tracks.
 
Without my camera I couldn’t capture the moment. The next day, the nest was marked. (This time I had my camera.)

About two feet wide, the pattern was rhythmic. Standing there I could imagine the turtle’s slow progression up the beach followed by the systematic and genetically programmed goal of creating a space in which to lay eggs.

The deep imprint of flippers, an impression of a nest dug, then covered, and the return trip to the ocean were things I had seen on the Animal Planet, but here in person it looked so very different. This was real and as such carried a greater significance than just a story on TV. Now, more than ever, I could relate.

In all, the markings from ocean’s edge to nest and back again totaled twenty feet long by four feet wide. It was a short trip by human standards but less so for a turtle.

According to Florida’s Living Beaches, A Guide for the Curious Beachcomber, here in South Florida, Loggerheads are the

“most common nesting turtle. Nests have 70-150 ping-pong-ball sized eggs buried about 18 inches beneath the sand. Each female loggerhead makes an average of four nests separated by two-week intervals during the May-August nesting season. Migrating hundreds of miles and laying hundreds of eggs is strenuous, which is why loggerheads typically take off 1-3 years between nesting trips. Hatchlings emerge from nest July-October, 45-60 days after eggs are laid. Both nesting and hatching emergences occurs mostly at night.” *

And while this is amazing, more amazing was the inherent power to be transported from textbook to reality. This was real. A story was brought to life. I stood there in between those tracks and became part of the journey. And I felt insignificant, small, like when we look at the stars and realize that we are a mere speck in the whole of the cosmos. I may be an intelligent, gifted person with many attributes, but in the whole of universal life, I was trumped by a 250 pound sea creature who was following a genetically imprinted mission.

It’s funny how that works. Life’s checks and balances serve to keep things in order whether it’s the frenetic rush of baby sea turtles heading back to the safety of the sea or the humbling of the human ego. Humility allows for the expansion of self for personal growth. Too often we run through our days, in our own frenetic rush of chores, work, and responsibilities, seldom stopping to be humbled by things which seem so less advanced than us.

Today I invite you to notice something simple. Doesn’t matter what – a bird yanking an earthworm out of the ground or a parade of ants marching down the sidewalk. Simply stop for a moment to appreciate the activity. This is the art of what Buddhists call mindfulness and it’s in these simple things repeated over and over again that we find a life well lived.

Make it a beach day whatever that looks like for you.

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Copyright 2009 Diana Taylor, Pug At The Beach

Florida’s Living Beaches, A Guide for the Curious Beachcomber by Blair and Dawn Witherington available at: Amazon.com This is an excellent book and well worth the $21.95!