This morning I spent a while on the beach, watching the birds. Pelicans and gulls, flying above the waves. Cormorants and ducks, bobbing on the waves. And diving underneath them. It was funny to me how many birds hang out between the breakers and the beach, where they need to dive under every breaking wave. I wondered - do they tire of it and eventually fly away, or move further out to get a break?
I didn't have all day to sit and watch, so I don't know. But it got me thinking about stuff that happens in our lives that requires us to dive, again and again and again, to avoid being toppled over. When wave after wave comes and forces us to act, even when we're not ready, even when we're tired. Sometimes, you can't fly away.
We like to rail at our circumstances. We would prefer to wish the waves away, rather than move ourselves. And we can't, so we end up resentful. Do birds resent the waves? Do they stress themselves out about the amount of work it takes just to stay in one place? Or is it like a dance for them - a beautiful union of two separate elements, each doing their own thing? Do they welcome the waves, knowing how beautiful the arc of their dive is in response? Do they treasure their ability to float, to dive, to rise again on the other side and to do it all over again?
I hope so, because I do. And next time it feels like wave after wave is coming for me, I hope to remember this morning. I hope to trust that I am made to float, to dive, to rise on the other side, and to do it again and again. I hope I learn to treasure it.