Creating Ripples

There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered...


This quote from Nelson Mandela has always been one of my favorites, as I think it beautifully captures a feeling of returning to a place after being away. These types of feelings have been on my mind consistently throughout the past week.

I have come to the conclusion that there is no feeling quite like the feeling I get when I look out at the horizon; the sky is such a brilliant blue that it is hard to tell exactly where it blends with the sea. I have a special beach spot that I trek to when I'm craving some kind of continuity and stability. I have spent countless hours there in the past few years...reading, writing, thinking, laughing, and even crying. Alone, with friends...but usually alone. The beach spot is my "rock." When my heart becomes full with any type of overwhelming emotion, positive or negative, the open sky and endless horizon soaks it up like some kind of sponge; such a vast space seems large enough to contain my own musings.

Sitting at this particular spot the last few days had me thinking. The beach spot never changes, even when I do. Sure, the beach grass may grow a little taller, or the alleged erosion may shave an inch or so off of the shoreline every once in awhile. But essentially, my beach spot looks the same as it did last year, and the year before that. It is stability.

And I like it.

If the beach spot could talk about me, it would probably have quite a lot to say. About what it's observed me doing. It may recall the time I wrote a long letter to a faraway friend, and searched for over an hour to find the perfect rock to send along with it. It may mention the time I prayed for a family member's life at the shore, my tears dripping into the waves, forever submerged. Or maybe even the time I felt so overwhelmed with joy that I ignored the brain-freeze level cold and dove in headfirst. The shore may even talk about how I myself, like the beach grass, have grown taller. Or grown inward.

But mostly grown inward.

I am a very different girl from the one who sat at the beach spot two years ago. Or last year. Or even this past winter when I made a quick drive to say "goodbye" before my semester abroad. It's an interesting feeling, the one of knowing that in a few months, you will be back at the same spot, but will have had some incredible experience in between. Almost something I weirdly feared in a way. And still do.

But, as I was told recently, change equals growth, whether positive or negative. Change is actually a beautiful process in that it allows you to adapt. I like to picture certain events in my life as some of the small pebbles that I've thrown into the ocean so many times, creating countless ripples in an infinite number of directions. Without any of these moments or "ripples," I would not be where I am today.

And we only have today. 

Life is not a guarantee. Ever. I've been blessed to learn that early on and act accordingly. While I go and pursue my dreams, however blindly, the beach will always be there to welcome me home, and remind me of today. It is a reminder of faith and love and trust and all things good. Even when I'm afraid of the uncertainty of what comes next, I always come back to the beach spot with a greater sense of appreciation, strength, and wisdom. I am always being cared for.

And for that, I am thankful.