March 6, 2023
It was our last day in Maui, Hawaii. My brother had decided we would spend the afternoon at Kanaha Beach. After spending some time relaxing on the warm sand, he decided he would go to the picnic area and do whatever it was he was going to do there. After about an hour of reading, I went to find my brother to leave my book and other belongings with him. I told him I was going to walk along the coast.
Over the past week, I had been surrounded by some of the most magnificent scenery I’ve ever laid my eyes on – from looking down onto the clouds, to walking through a bamboo forest that led to a 200-foot waterfall, to scaling mountain sides and the rims of volcanoes, to admiring the vastness of the ocean – yet, I couldn’t rid myself of the morose state of mind I found myself in that lingered perpetually on what felt like a 24 hour basis, non-stop over the past month.
As I walked along the beach coast, I saw kids playing and having fun in the sand, building their sandcastles, seemingly without a care in the world, that of course other than building the perfect castle. There was, however, one three-year-old child who was intrigued and gave his undivided attention to a free-diving fisherman who had just caught 9 large, silver coloured fish, each about one foot long. The man stuck his two fingers into the gills of each fish, tearing them apart. Their blood trickled down onto the fine-grained sand, as they laid there spasming in their last moments of life.
On my way back, as I felt the waves crashing against my legs, and the slight pull of the tide drawing me ever closer to the great expanse of the Pacific Ocean, I stopped one last time, to take in my surroundings and gaze out at the vastness of what stood before me. Feeling my feet sink down into the thick sand, I brought my gaze to them. About two feet to my right, in the clear water, I noticed something round and dark, approximately one inch in diameter. I bent down, reaching my hand through the water and took hold of it softly in my fingertips. As I pulled my hand out of the water, and drew it closer to my eyes, I saw that it was a shell unlike any I had ever seen before. The shell’s underside was encircled by two reflective, silver outer rings. Almost completely surrounding its center, a ‘U’ or horseshoe-shaped design, composed of symmetrical white, rectangular figures, with rounded edges, that slightly increased in size as it approached each of its two ends, wrapped around its smooth center, which appeared faded, transitioning from a darker gray, to a lighter, washed gray. Its topside, of a blackish, gray color with indented streaks of small, linear grooves, led to its oval-shaped center, a silver iris, where within laid its black pupil with a faint, white circular mark in its center.
I couldn’t help but see the resemblance to a human eye, and almost instantly, the idea of where the eye directs its attention came flooding back to mind – I had been asking myself repeatedly as to the utility and the significance of how one directs their attention to shape the course and outcomes of their life.
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A person chooses what single point of focus they direct their eyes and consequently their attention towards. That single point of focus takes priority over all else in their surroundings, everything else becoming peripheral. Likewise in establishing a vision for yourself, you get to choose what you see and what you direct your attention towards. In setting your sights on a worthwhile goal, your effort and energy become directed towards that point of focus, and in so doing, helps establish your priorities, raising what’s important to the center and leaving what’s not to the peripheral surroundings.
I had the intuition that if I were to focus on understanding the cause of the emotional and psychological pain I had been experiencing – the most uncomfortable thoughts I had consciously or unconsciously suppressed or chose to avoid up until this point – that through this exploration into the deepest recesses of my psyche, if I choose to look at the places I really did not want to look, if I stared towards the dark unknown, that perhaps, this could be what leads to some kind of relief or salvation – that through the decision to voluntarily confront my own demons, not to dispel them perse, but to integrate them as an inextricably linked part of myself – by doing so be able to move forward from this point in my life.
I think the decision to do so was based on some faint glimmerings of hope that despite the peril, pain and suffering you experience from any given situation, that there can still be some good that can be gleaned from it, so long as you look for it and have faith that you will find it. Without that sliver of hope and faith, I’ve personally found it hard to imagine how people can get through the absolute darkest periods of their lives.
In voluntarily choosing to undertake this confrontation with your deepest thoughts and impulses – by, for instance, being honest with yourself as to your motivations that guide your actions; by understanding how the events of your childhood may connect to the beliefs you hold at present; and by openly exploring your insecurities and doubts – you understand that you’re in for quite the internal battle, and that in order to carry on with such tasks, you must be clear on the reasons you are doing so, because admitting to yourself that you haven’t always told the truth, that at times you’ve chosen willful blindness, or that you’ve faltered to the immediacy of your darker impulses and desires is not always easy.
From the memories and experiences of the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, the journey of your life that has led to this battle is one that will always and forever be etched in your soul. It is through the incorporation and understanding of your past that wisdom is gained to set your gaze upon a vision for a better future.
By bringing your focus and turning your gaze inwards to the truth that lies within, you soon become aware of the infinite possibilities for exploration and adventures that lie before you.
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I placed the shell in my left swim-trunk pocket, taking my final few steps in the water before returning to where my brother had been waiting all this time. I was excited to show him what I had found. I pulled it out of my pocket and showed him. He gave the shrewd reply of something like “Oh, cool, we have to catch our flight,” then turned his attention back to his phone. I probably would have done something similar in his position. I realized, sometimes doing and sharing certain things will only be important to you and that’s okay if that aligns with your own vision.
Andres E. Findlay 
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