The oceans are wide, the beaches are long, and both give me a sense of my place in this world. I’m small and transient compared to the endlessness of water and land. I am more like the small things I find near these places.
These periwinkles most stay attached to the rock, waiting out the low tides till the life-giving waters of the high tides bring them food.
Sometimes, one will strike out for a new home, slowly making their way across the grains of sand, hoping to arrive before the tide can sweep them away. I can relate: driving down a lonely road with a storm in the rear-view mirror, I have felt much the same sense of urgency to get to my destination.
Sometimes beauty is elusive. I saw these bright flowers from an overgrown path around a salt marsh and pond, and ended up tramping through mud up to my ankles to get to them. But it was worth it.
Afterwards, I stood ankle-deep in the water and let it clean me off. The rhythm of the waves, the sound of the stones rolling in the surf, the wind on my face, all those things refreshed and renewed me. I am small, but I am a part of it all.
Walking home, one last small thing seen: we all find our place eventually.
It’s so easy to get whisked away in the hubbub of friends, work and busy-ness, but we need to take the time to be still and become aware of ourselves. The small things. The fact that we’re still breathing. Our ability to move. The presence of love around and in us. Our strengths. Our opportunities. Our journeys.