If you’ve ever watched the ocean then you know that the tides never stop washing ashore; the waves’ strong arms always beating the land that holds them prisoner.
Sometimes the waves are ferocious and it’s as though you stand witness to a lovers’ altercation. Other times the waves touch the shore in tender, heart-breaking kisses. Gentle, sweet lovemaking that takes your breath away.
No matter how many times the shore pushes the tides away they always come back; always ready to spread their contention, their love and their treasure.
The land-ocean relationship is full of power, depth, intensity, vulnerability and contradictions. I’ve been thinking about this relationship lately – particularly how the ocean’s tides always come. Even if the land held out its hands to keep them away, they would still come.
It’s been two weeks since I came back from my trip to the US. I came back on fire – the kind of fire that scorches your insides and lets you know that you nor your life can never be the same again. This is the fire that now runs through my veins and I have no more wish for blood.
But, it’s easy to feel inspired when you are travelling through a country that is not your home. It’s a human thing to see beauty in things that are far from us or things we do not own, and neglect the beauty that is already in the fabric of our lives.
There was a part of me that was terrified of coming back to Australia. I didn’t want to lose the inspiration and the luxurious heat that had me consumed. I wanted to put it into practice and not see it evaporate from me because I was back into my usual routine of work – study – work…
So, I found myself holding on too tightly to myself and my new found tranquil space. It became a constant fear of going back to the old mental frame. The fear became an added burden. Then one of my mentors said something to me that made me think of the ocean…and the tides. And then it hit me that the things I had learned on my trip; the lessons I had dug deep to find were mine to keep. I could choose to use them anytime I needed them. In moments of hope or despair, they were there. Instead of desperately walking around fearful of losing the spark and illumination that comes with them, I was going to trust that I could handle the highs and lows of life when they came.
So how do you keep the feelings and perspectives that were stirred in a high hour (like traveling) from evaporating in times of despair?
By letting the tides in.
Sometimes they will be gentle and other times they will be violent and relentless. But by seeing and trusting your relationship with life’s tides, you will come to learn that there is no need to excessively protect your heart from the unknown. This is a vulnerability that is scary but incredibly liberating.
I hope I can hold on to my high hour. I’ll take it one day at a time. And whenever I feel frightened or I find myself grasping, I’ll stop and take a moment to think about the ocean.
Then I’ll open up myself again and simply let the tides in.