The Tides are Changing

As I look out at the horizon, I see waves that were once familiar replaced by new ones. As much as I might want to find the old waves again, I can’t recover something taken by the tide. And yet, I saw something interesting the other day when I read that ‘water has a perfect memory’.

I’ve also read that more than half of the human body is made up of water. Every day somewhere there is a new discussion about whether our lives are led by our own hands, or by a destiny somewhere beyond our control. But perhaps it’s like water and the human body.

No matter what I might call water, my body knows that it needs water to live, to refresh itself, and to nourish other life. In turn, whether I view water as a resource given to me by the universe or a gift from God, the simple physical act of refilling my body with water is itself the purest form of honoring the life-force.

In this same sense, whether the world looks like a broken conglomerate of water and land, or whether it looks like a perfect sphere in the midst of a dark galaxy, the world is still just being, and sometimes being is just enough. I can’t change how the tide treats me, but I can flow with the tide.

It’s only when I let go that I find myself absorbed by the world I struggle so often to understand. When I just walk into the water, my life reconnects with the originality of everything. Then, I remember. It’s a brilliant waterfall through time and space. Everything is there.

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At Last

And it’s one of those nights where the journey is long and your stomach is just begging and pleading for some action, when from out of nowhere your bus driver announces it’s time for a meal break.

You step off the bus and see the gas station, and it’s the greatest landmark you’ve ever laid eyes on; a gift from generations of hungry souls before yours.

You walk in, pour yourself a cup of coffee, and find immediate comfort in the warmth of the brew as it fills the small cup palmed by your hand. After topping if off with some creamer, you take a sip, cherish it, and look around for a treat to complete your late night snack family. The options are endless, as cookies, croissants, and sandwiches make up just a few of the possibilities for delight.

Your appetite longs to meet all of them, but tonight, there can only be one. Finally, you go with a coffee cake and a pair of bananas for good measure and nutrition.

Walking up to the register, you realize that the woman behind the counter is an angel, who happily greets you as you slide your debit card to officially make the meal yours. You thank her, and even wish her a good night as you head outside to perform your ritual.

Outside, you eat mechanically, as bit by bit coffee and cake caress your hunger into submission. A moment later, the bananas finish the job, at last quelling the chance of hearing any more from your belly for the evening.

You can only feel love in this moment: love for your bus driver, love for the gas station, and love for your country.

Somewhere, a part of you wants to join the air force just so you can show how much love you feel. But before you can finish that thought, your bus driver announces that it’s time to get back on the road. You immediately follow his instructions, nearly marching to the bus in a show of honor, knowing it is the only thing you can do to acknowledge the incredible value of his existence to your life at this juncture.

Aboard the bus, you take your seat, lean your head back, and fall into place for the last stretch of your journey. You’ve made it, and now nothing can stop you from reaching your promise-land. From the bus driver to the last bite of your banana, it is all on your side.