I woke up impatient and anxious
Chasin’ dreams in my sleep
Got me feeling like I made it
Then I wake up and see
Frustration… – Under Control, The Internet
I spent a significant amount of time this past week on the beach. In the comfort of warm shallow waters, soft sands, and gentle breezes, the mind tends to wander.
I started thinking about the ocean – how many lives has it lived, how many secrets and bodies and stories has it swallowed? Were the ocean to have a voice, were it to talk, I imagine it would mostly laugh at us, at our endless scurrying and worry, at how large we make our problems seem, at how important we think we are.
And at that time I wondered, as I increasingly do, what it all is for, the pain, the struggle, the early mornings and late nights, the broken promises, the disappointments and even words themselves.
To stand at a beach gazing out across the water is to stand at the edge of eternity, to realize how small you are, how inconsequential your existence is. It is perspective. It is a memento mori. You will cease to exist and the world will keep turning. Time will not mourn you. The tides will come and go with no delay. The ocean will keep laughing.