The Weight of Anchors

It is 3:14 am. The house is holding its breath, and I am staring at the wall, wondering why we spend our lives building things that are meant to stay put. We construct monuments of steel and stone, anchoring them to the earth as if we could force the world to stop spinning. We want to believe that if we build something heavy enough, we will finally be safe from the drift. But the water underneath never stops moving. It pulls at the foundations, indifferent to our need for permanence. We are all just temporary tenants in a landscape that is constantly rearranging itself while we sleep. We think we are the architects of our own stability, yet we are only ever standing on the edge of a current we cannot control. If the tide finally decides to take what we have built, will we have the courage to let go, or will we sink with the structures we call home?

Yasef Imroze Ifaz has taken this beautiful image titled Two Landmarks. It captures the quiet tension between the solid earth and the shifting dark, leaving me to wonder: what are you holding onto that the water might eventually claim?