We Are In Between Tides.
Below you will find raw and personal journal entries written over the course of April 2020, sitting on my dock, watching the water ebb, flow, and sometimes get stuck in between.
Monday, April 6, 2020
Sitting on the dock…
…as the sun stains clouds shades of dusty pink, tide ebbing back to sea, this water one of the only travelers on the globe right now. The distant chirps and tweets of birds, crickets kicking off their orchestra, wind whispering through palm fronds. Sounds of people faint and distant and more comforting than ever before. The clouds and the water both being pulled, and we’re all in the same places.
Wednesday, April 8, 2020
Sitting on the dock…
…witnessing the day wake up. The super pink moon still sitting in the sky, birds singing their praises, tide in transition: a powerful push and pull between ebb and flow. Sitting so close to the water, drinking in the sounds of nature’s morning breaths… It is calming, it is peaceful, it is healing.
The tide is switching more fiercely now: a chaotic back and forth, a rush of energy in both directions. It’s as though it is alive.
Tuesday, April 14, 2020
Sitting on the dock…
…sun hitting my shoulders in a comforting blanket kind of way. Although it’s nearly 90 degrees and feels like 99, there’s just enough shade from a towering palm that was once a small little guy. I remember when he was freshly planted. Even though we know trees grow, it’s hard to imagine how magnificent they inevitably become.
There’s a peaceful, gentle breeze, and I can see all the way down to the bottom of the canal. Nature is healing. We can too.
Tuesday, April 21, 2020
Sitting on the dock…
…enjoying the sun’s blanket of warmth on my shoulder blades, the calls of birds, the distant sounds of motors, the gentle ripples of water moving in all directions, the soft breeze, the crispness of the air today. Today is a beautiful day.
Wednesday, April 22, 2020
Sitting on the dock…
…sky the color of bruises, watching the water lazily make its way out to bigger things, palms swaying in sync with a faint breeze, the smell of a cigarette wafting from across the canal, practicing disregard toward that which I perceive to be evil (the cigarette, not the smoker).
Here I am, back to this beautiful scene, back to being alone. For the most part, I relish the aloneness. But unexpected emotions arise. I let them in, and now I’m here.
And I begin to notice: Maybe suffering is that space between the tides. The push and pull. The resistance and the aggression. Once neutrality is found, again comes the ebb and flow. Steady, soft, gentle. No chaos. Just acceptance.
Suffering is the chaos, the resistance.
Peace is the acceptance, the balance.
It can either ebb or flow — it can’t be both. It needs to agree: to go one way or another. Otherwise, it’s stuck.
Neither the ebb nor the flow is bad. Both are needed. Both are guaranteed, just as change is inevitable.
Friday, April 24, 2020
Sitting on the dock…
…watching the water ripple with the wind’s blow. Tide high and fierce.
Monday, April 27, 2020
Sitting on the dock…
…because the weatherman promised cool, crisp air this morning, and nature delivered. And it really is glorious. As promised, not a cloud in the sky, a bit of a breeze, and low humidity. Thank you, Mother Nature. I am actually cold! The birds are pleased too, tweeting and chirping up a storm today. Today is beautiful.
The tide is leaving, once again making its way to a greater mission, a mission of oneness with the sea.
I’ve come to realize that the time we’re in — this global pause — is the space between. We’re caught between tides, we’re caught in suffering — if we allow it. But it won’t last forever, as nothing does except our souls. Soon the tide will turn, the suffering will end, and we’ll find it hard to imagine it went any other way.
Tuesday, April 28, 2020
Sitting on the dock…
…enjoying another lovely morning. Tide moving away once again, out to the unknown. Birds singing in the distance, the faint murmur of nearby neighbors, the lazy but delightful breeze.
Wednesday, April 29, 2020
Sitting on the dock…
…thinking about the space between tides and realizing: Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s suffering, and maybe it’s freedom too. Maybe it’s a choice.
freerangemandi 