The Weight of the Wind

I keep a small, smooth stone in my desk drawer, pulled from the shoreline of a beach I haven’t visited in twenty years. It is cold to the touch, worn down by the relentless friction of the tide until it feels like a secret held in the palm of my hand. We often think of the sea as a place of arrival, but it is truly a place of constant departure; every wave carries away a piece of the land, grinding it into something finer, something softer. There is a quiet, heavy patience in the way the water shapes the world, taking what was once jagged and making it smooth. We spend our lives trying to hold onto the sharp edges of our experiences, fearing that if we let the current wash over us, we might disappear entirely. Yet, there is a grace in being unmade, in letting the wind and the salt strip away the unnecessary weight until only the essence remains. What is left of us when the tide finally pulls back?

David Anthonio has captured this fleeting, rhythmic grace in his beautiful image titled Laughing Gulls Riding the Waves. It reminds me that even in the wildest motion, there is a stillness waiting to be found. Does the sea feel as heavy to you as it does to me?