The Story Behind the Sand Dollar

I still remember the first time I held a live sand dollar in the palm of my hand.

We were walking across a quiet sandbar, the tide low and the world hushed, when I gently uncovered it—this fragile, living disc nestled beneath the shifting sand. I held it flat in my palm, mesmerized by the tiny, bristling feet moving across my skin. It was a moment of wonder and stillness—like the sea had handed me a meditation, asking me to simply be.

I had always thought of sand dollars as sun-bleached treasures, the kind you find dried and brittle, carried home in buckets and memories. But this was something entirely different—alive, thriving, purposeful. That quiet encounter opened something in me.

There’s something deeply humbling about discovering that what we often see as lifeless or decorative is, in truth, part of something intricate and living.

As my kids have grown, this humble little sea creature has become a shared obsession. Every time we hop out of the boat onto a newly exposed sandbar, it’s an unspoken mission: see who can find one first.

The sand dollars remain mostly elusive—and I think that’s part of the magic. Each one feels like a gift. And over time, these little beachcomber quests have become something we all look forward to, together.

That connection eventually made its way into my artwork.

You’ll see the sand dollar pop up in the details of my watercolors—sometimes front and center, sometimes just a suggestion in the texture of the sand or the rhythm of the tide.

It’s a quiet tribute to the moments that ground me. To the mindfulness of that first touch. And to the beauty of things half-hidden, waiting to be noticed.

So if you’ve found your own version of a sand dollar—some small, living reminder that wonder is everywhere—I’d love to hear about it.

💬 What symbols keep showing up for you? What rituals or treasures bring you back to yourself?

 Drop a memory, a thought, or a symbol that inspires you in the comments below. Let’s share in the wonder.