The Star Thrower

The Star Thrower tells of a man, in his prime, who observes the shell collectors at the beach in the height of tourist season, particularly after a storm, engaged in a kind of greedy madness to out-collect his less aggressive neighbours. He watches them scrambling along the beach at dawn with bundles of gathered starfish, hermit crabs, sea urchins, and other living shells. Arguing, toppling over each other, overburdened, they rush in a kind of frenzy to outdo each other for these fine specimens. The shell collectors then boil the shell "houses," occupants included, in outdoor kettles provided by the resort hotels as a service to guests who will show off their proud collections to envious relatives and friends back home. There are many people with the collectors' morality. They are not unique to the seashore. They are people who are trying to collect things in life in search of happiness. They are the consumers who think you may purchase happiness. The man noticed a solitary human figure standing near the water's edge in the centre of a rainbow caused by the sun-filled spray. The figure stooped over, then stood up to fling an object out to sea beyond the breaking surf. The spectator finally reached the older figure and asked him what he was doing. The old man with the bronzed, worn face answered softly, "I'm a star thrower." Expecting to see a sand dollar or perhaps a flat rock -- like the ones he used to skim across the water for fun -- the younger man came closer for a better look. The old man, with a quick yet gentle movement, picked up another starfish and spun it gracefully far out into the sea. "It may live," he said, "if the offshore pull is strong enough." Here was a human being who was not a collector. He said he had decided to be part of life and had dedicated himself to helping give another day, another week, another year, and another opportunity for living. The younger man silently reached down and skipped a still-living starfish across the water toward freedom. He felt like a gardener sowing the seeds of life. He looked back over his shoulder. Against the rainbow, the old Star Thrower stooped and flung once more. He understood the secret. Life cannot be collected. Happiness cannot be travelled to, owned, earned, worn, or consumed. Happiness is the natural experience of living every minute with love, grace, and gratitude. The gift of life is not a treasure hunt like on the beach, you cannot look for success.

The treasure is not in what you own, what you wear, how you look or your worldly accomplishments. The treasure is within you. It only needs to be uncovered and discovered. The secret is to turn a life of collection into the life of a Star Thrower.

-Anonymous-