Gift From The Sea

Women, argues Lindbergh in Gift from the Sea, have always had a special relationship to the “inner life” and to the spiritual life. Men traditionally oriented their attentions toward the “outer” world of politics, work, and the public sphere. They typically directed their energies toward practical activity and action, toward influencing and changing what was external to them. This is evident, for example, in the efforts men put into technology, business, and warfare. In contrast, women traditionally were not afforded the chance to participate in these areas. Thus, as Lindbergh says, “The very limitations of her life forced her to look inward” (65). Finding no outlet in the outer world and no means to explore there, women were compelled to explore and focus on the inner world of immediate consciousness and the self. They were led to put their energies into observing and finding beauty in the closeness of experience and the moment. Similarly, their confinement to the home encouraged such inwardness and attention. As Lindbergh writes, “In the small circle of the home she has never quite forgotten the particular uniqueness of each individual member of the family; the spontaneity of now; the vividness of here” (143). Whereas men often dealt with large, impersonal groups, women usually attended to and saw only a handful of people. Thus, they paid closer attention to the emotional and spiritual lives of those few individuals whom they did see.

However, this reality was transformed by changes in modern life and culture. One of these changes that Lindbergh identifies is the increasing transition of women into the labor force and the public sphere. As she observes, “In our recent efforts to emancipate ourselves, to prove ourselves the equal of man, we have […] been drawn into competing with him in his outward activities, to the neglect of our own inner springs” (65-66). Of course, suggests Lindbergh, the opportunity for women to have jobs and careers is positive. But it means that women, like men throughout history, are no longer compelled to look inward for meaning. Broader cultural shifts also exacerbate such a change. Modern life and technology mean that when women are in the traditional home setting, they need not look inward anymore. Telephones, magazines, and radio and television shows mean that quiet moments when they might have looked to the inner life are now filled with noise. The previous times when they relied on the beauty of nature or the realm of the imagination are supplanted by the outwardness of artificial social interaction and busyness. As Lindbergh suggests, this shift threatens the existence of a fertile inner life for everyone. She urges that women, in their traditional role as guardians of the inner, must be at the forefront of fighting this encroachment of distraction and ensuring the inner life’s survival.

On one level, Lindbergh’s collecting of shells from the beach in Gift from the Sea is a literal activity that serves as inspiration for her reflections on life and love. On a deeper level, though, this act serves as a metaphor for the broader concept of the gift that recurs throughout the text. Lindbergh’s account of the double-sunrise shell that “was given to [her] freely” (71) by a stranger captures this concept. When receiving a true gift, “nothing is demanded of you in payment, no social rite expected, no tie established. It was a gift, freely offered, freely taken” (71-72). Like the shells found on the beach, the true gift exists outside the transactional process of ordinary giving and receiving that dominates interactions in urban life in which everything involves an exchange. Even “gifts," which are ostensibly given freely, involve implicit obligations. For example, the gift giver may expect the reciprocity of being given a similar gift in the future, a favor, or—as happens often in the case of charity—an expression of gratitude.

Yet this idea of the true gift does not depend solely on the genuinely gratuitous nature of what is given. It also relies upon the attitude of the person receiving the gift. As Lindbergh says, “One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach- waiting for a gift from the sea” (23). Again, this comment may be read as literal advice on how to approach the collecting of shells. On a metaphorical level, though, it refers to being open to a broader set of “gifts” and inspiration, not just those from nature. It involves receptivity to “voices from the past” (65) and their wisdom (65)—as seen in Lindbergh’s references to Socrates (29), Rilke (48), William James (64), and Plotinus (65)—as well as to new people and to one's own consciousness. Such openness means not trying to pre-determine or control what will be found or given. As Lindbergh writes, “The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient” (23). Rather than setting out to find quick or convenient answers, people must remain in a state of receptivity, patiently open to the strange, the challenging, and the new.

Finally, the nature of the gift and this wisdom is not static. When it is gifted, people should not attempt to hold onto it or treat it like a possession belonging to only themselves. Instead, suggests Lindbergh, one should attempt to give the gift of wisdom to others in turn. As she indicates at the end of her introduction to the book, “I return my gift from the sea” (17). Lindbergh’s writing of Gift from the Sea is her attempt to continue the chain of wisdom and of giving from which she initially benefited. This idea is symbolized by her bringing back “a few shells” from her time on the beach for others to see. Like the tide and its constantly fluid relation with the shore, bringing back the shells symbolizes the breakdown of the strict boundaries that divide people and is the true meaning of the gift.