Last week I got to spend three days at the coast, where I saw the most beautiful sand castle. By no means pristine, architecturally true, or precise, it was none-the-less a work of art. It looked like it had risen from the sea, constructed by sea people; a beacon calling to kindred spirits. This was not a castle born from a mold, but one shaped by hands and hearts.
We walked down the beach, tried to fly a kite in the unusually still air, tossed a frisbee. We tracked back along the beach, following our original path, looking for the castle as our beacon. We arrived at a lump of semi-molded sand, a crab leg and a small circle of stones; the ocean had already come to claim its own.