The Sea Within

Scooping up the shells and kicking them into the sea. The sea can bring out the reflective side in anyone. Its depth, range, beauty, its temperament, its secrets, its truth, its incredible power. I look outward but am absorbed into the the sea within. Within all of us. The same and yet so different, the same and yet we are all so unique. And sometimes you don't think so and you forget and you live your superficial life. The sea without always takes me back to the sea within.

Below is my favourite poem, shared with me by a friend living in the USA. We met here in South Africa. It was an unlikely friendship. Forty years between us and miles of ocean and land separating us. But we connected, she saw me and I saw her. And when I read her favourite poem I understood her a little better.

Her honesty, her humble and peaceful truth, the conviction in this truth, her subtle yet brimming well of beauty and strength. She felt no need to get a reaction out of others or to base her decisions and her life as a reaction to others. She is her own, independent person. She believes in her own beautiful essence. And that is enough. That is everything.

If you feel unnoticed or like you're a mere fly on the wall, a distant observer, or if you ever ponder on your insignificance.... If we could all see and understand the beauty within ourselves, it would be enough for us too. And perhaps one who knows this truth, even if we aren't able to fully describe it or understand it but merely have a sense of it, is lucky enough to meet people who know this truth too. And even if you just fleetingly see it and smile and carry on walking, seeing that in someone else's eyes is enough, for the moment, and you feel a little less alone.

STONE by Charles Simic

Go inside a stone
That would be my way..
Let someone else become a dove
Or gnash with a tiger's tooth.
I am happy to be a stone.

From the outside the stone is a riddle
No one knows how to answer it.
Yet within it must be cool and quiet
Even though a cow steps on it full weight,
Even though a child throws it in a river:
The stone sinks, slow, unperturbed
To the river bottom
Where the fishes come to knock on it
And listen.

I have seen sparks fly out
When two stones are rubbed,
So perhaps it is not dark inside after all;
Perhaps there is a moon shining
From somewhere, as though behind a hill-
Just enough light to make out
The strange writings, the star-charts
On the inner walls.

Thanks for reading,
lynb