The Weight of Salt

I keep a small, smooth stone in my desk drawer, pulled from the tide line of a beach I haven’t visited in twenty years. It is worn down to a soft, matte grey, its edges rounded by the relentless, patient friction of the sea. There is a specific kind of silence that lives inside such objects—a quiet that speaks of things being constantly undone and remade by the water. We often think of our lives as solid, fixed structures, yet we are more like that stone, shaped by the currents we move through and the salt that stings our skin. To be alive is to be in a state of perpetual motion, surrendering to the pull of the tide even when we are trying to stand our ground. We hold onto the shore, but the water is always waiting to carry us into the blue. If you were to let go of the anchor you are clutching so tightly, would you sink, or would you finally learn how to drift?

Ryszard Wierzbicki has captured this beautiful, fleeting dance with the waves in his image titled Water Sliding. It reminds me that even in the rush of the wind and the spray, there is a grace in simply letting the water take you. Does this image make you feel the pull of the tide as well?