Several summers ago I was looking for seashells at the beach during a family vacation. Because my friends and I had agreed to sing songs for an event for people living in poverty with AIDS after the vacation, I decided to bring lots of beautiful, perfect shells for the occasion. My thinking was that since these guests were dealing with serious problems in life, they would appreciate perfect shells. There were literally thousands of shells shining in the sun at the beach, so the task seemed very simple.

To my dismay, every time I picked up a perfect-looking shell, there was a blemish—often a little hole or a crack. As hard as I looked, I could not find any perfect shells. I was in despair.

After throwing away hundreds of shells of different shapes and colors, I started wondering how those holes or cracks came to be. Perhaps a fish bit into the shell with a pair of small holes. Smooth shells that have lost their original shapes must have been washed by the waves for many years. All the creatures once protected by the shells were long gone. My imagination took me to the places the shells may have seen: the dark bottom of the ocean; a stormy night with crashing waves; deep down in the wet sand; the powerful, bleaching sun; a hungry bird with a strong beak; abrasive sands flying in strong winds…

This is when I came to realize that cracks and holes actually made each shell unique and beautiful, and that there was a fascinating story behind every hole and crack.

Eventually I had a profound understanding about life: Our blemishes we don’t always appreciate about ourselves actually made us unique and beautiful.

Before that day, I had not liked many things about myself. But from then on, I could look in the mirror and smile from time to time.

As I walked my way back to the beach house with beautiful, blemished shells, a song came to me. My friends and I sang the song with the guests at the event. Everyone —the guests, volunteers, my friends and I—was beautiful in their own way.

May we see the beauty in ourselves and others.

Seashells by Yuri Yamamoto

I once went to the beach to pick some shells for you and me. The sea was calm and the sun was warm, it was a perfect day.

[chorus] There were seashells, seashells, seashells, seashells, seashells, seashells for you and me. There were seashells, seashells, seashells, seashells, seashells, seashells for you and me.

So I set out to find perfect shells without any holes or cracks, I searched on the sand and searched in the water, I could not find such shells.

[chorus]

Oh yes, I found a lot of shells with holes and cracks and scratches and blotches! They were black and orange and white and purple, and some had pretty stripes.

[chorus]

Well, the holes and cracks and scratches and blotches are beautiful like my wrinkles and scars (and grey hair… and some people don’t have any hair!). There’s a story for each hole and crack that no one ever knows.

There were seashells, seashells, seashells, seashells, seashells, seashells for you and me. There were seashells, seashells, seashells, seashells. They were as good as they can be!