Oh, the drama, the drama is what captures me at the beginning. And yet, the more I look, the more I notice that is common, everyday, anything but dramatic. Here is a vast ocean and I come upon a shoreline littered with old logs from who-knows-where and other debris that reeks of low tide. I feel the ocean working, breathing in whatever we choose to dispose in her, and breathing out that same stuff, somewhat altered and somewhere else. In this moment, I can imagine this ocean, this shoreline as part of a huge and living planetary machine.
Perhaps that is what it is, the best way to describe it. I'm not used to seeing at this level of observation, where an ocean feels alive with purpose, with a task to do, one that we not-humble humans make immeasurably harder.
I stand for a moment in the face of this glorious entity that is both humdrum and extraordinary. Do I want to celebrate? Apologize? To witness the beauty and the degradation? In this moment, I am taut between finding hope and feeling overwhelmed. There's no easy or immediate answer, I can see that. So maybe all there is for me to do in this moment is to breathe, notice, breathe again. Often that's the best I can do. There is much to think about here and the time for just breathing and noticing may be coming to an end.
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