Waves melt in and out of each other in a perfect blend of beginning and end. Never early, never late, and never lasting longer than they need to. Moods, problems, and relationships roll in from the ocean of chaos so seamlessly that it's difficult to spot where they began, or to know when they'll end.
Perhaps these waves also sweep the shore of our lives to a perfect rhythm we're unaware of. Never early, never late, and never lasting longer than they need to.
Every experience rolls into the next with no consideration for how we feel. The uncertainty of what could come understandably terrifies us and so we cling to the familiar. The safe shore of what we know.
Opinions, preferences, and mental constructs seem necessary for taking us where we want to go, even though what we really want is something we rarely know. Plans suffer endless changes as life eagerly awaits to toss yet another spanner in our freshly made works. Laughing at our reaction like a cosmic child who giggles from around the corner. One who isn't wrapped up in the assumed seriousness of it all and offers us a hand, asking to play. An invitation responded to by either waiting on the shore as the tide rises, or braving the ocean and being shown how to surf its waves. To willingly wade into the unknown to find what adventures await.
You never get bitch slapped when you're ready for it. Life always waits until you've just drifted off before it reminds you who your daddy is. Waiting patiently until you're lulled into thinking that you're your own daddy. That you're in control. But there's no control over who near us dies, when we fall in love, or what realisations we have. It all just happens.
Unexpected events are hurled like stones that shatter our world. And although rebuilding our reality is possible, it can never be how it was. The glue of repression and denial bonds the shattered pieces back together in an attempt to unsee the truth that was unmasked. But thin cracks serve as reminders of the choice to remain within the chrysalis. To remain near the always fading light of the familiar.
It's as if we're animals oblivious to our self induced captivity. Believing that things are permanently how they are because of a role we've identified ourselves with. An enclosure perfectly painted with a landscape so familiar we forget it disguises the walls of our confinement.
Everything we could apparently want, and yet something is missing. A thirst so subtle and constant that we desensitise to it while engaging in the performance of mundane life. But moments of stillness reveal the delicate whispers of the intuitive heart. A soft voice asking 'would you like to see more?'
The answer so obvious, yet the mind is afraid. Afraid to acknowledge the walls that are now all too apparent behind the painted image. And afraid to acknowledge what allowing the heart to lead may mean. A hesitation, that once resolved, reveals an open door.
The choice to see more was always yours.
One little thought you never asked to think is enough to shift you ever so slightly that all kinds of ideas start showing up. A torrent of realisations emerging from one another so coherently that you can't help but feel them in your bones. The life and surroundings tailored to you just moments ago now scream at the seams. What once fit now restricts as the being within has grown.
Everything comes and goes like waves on a shore. Perfectly blending the death of the old and the birth of the new to a rhythm we can never quite know. We can't control what changes in our lives so must learn to surrender to the process of which our existence is a small part. Room must be given for us to bloom otherwise we will suffocate in a cage of our own creation. And it will be no ones fault but our own.
