I have been looking at the sea and listening to conversations about democracy.
As my mind wanders, I notice that the waves, even in low tide, do not come in a single direction. They come from different places, moving in different trajectories. When they come together, they sometimes merge. Sometimes, they bump into each other--oops!--and then they flow away along their original path.
There is constant motion, in low tide and high, and an inner swell that suggests that something is always brewing. And yet, storms are still rare enough to be events. Day after day, hour after hour, the waves just keep coming, doing their work without fuss, without pause.
Everytime I look at the sea, it inspires me with its quiet, tireless endeavour. A little envious, I wish I could bring the same quality to my work.
And as I listen to people talk about democracy, I think about those waves that despite not moving in the same direction, still do not stop the ocean from going about its business.
As my mind wanders, I notice that the waves, even in low tide, do not come in a single direction. They come from different places, moving in different trajectories. When they come together, they sometimes merge. Sometimes, they bump into each other--oops!--and then they flow away along their original path.
There is constant motion, in low tide and high, and an inner swell that suggests that something is always brewing. And yet, storms are still rare enough to be events. Day after day, hour after hour, the waves just keep coming, doing their work without fuss, without pause.
Everytime I look at the sea, it inspires me with its quiet, tireless endeavour. A little envious, I wish I could bring the same quality to my work.
And as I listen to people talk about democracy, I think about those waves that despite not moving in the same direction, still do not stop the ocean from going about its business.
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