I think about the story of a begger who has been sitting on the same wooden box for thirty years asking for money as people walk by. One day a man stops and asks what’s in the box. The begger says it’s just an old wooden box. Have you ever looked inside asks the passerby. Together they look in the box and it’s filled with gold.
I’m crawling slowly searching for treasure. I don’t know what it looks like because I haven’t found it yet so I will it. I become a psychic archeologist and still nothing. I decide self proclaimed psychics are all full of shit. They prey on simple minded lonely people so desperate to believe in something that they will believe in anything. I resume my search on a different level.
I can’t say what it was that called me to the beach at midnight but there I was crawling in the sand with my torche looking for something. I met a guy down there and he told me about black beach glass that can be found if you look hard. It dates back to the 1700’s. And Captn Cook., I’m hooked.
I don’t know what it looks like so I systematically cross everything that it’s not off the list. I am surrounded by thousands of pieces of glass on the bealch all beautiful and unique in thier own way but I don’t find what I’m looking for. I have to be patient, I keep looking. My mind wanders. I wonder why we fall in love with people we don’t even like. Why we work for companies who treat us as if they despise us as much as we despise them. I wonder why people work so hard for money, neglecting thier friends and family in the process only to work even harder at getting rid of it as soon as they have earned it and often even before They have earned it.
My mind quiets as I find another piece. I’m brought back to my childhood playing in the sand looking for buried treasure. I’m thirteen I don’t know what girls are, or careers or anything for that matter. I see a see a ship high on the horizon. I need my sward there is swashbuckling to do, I am the Pirate king. Captn Stromy.
For where your treasure is, there will be your heart…