The tides change in cycles of four times with each revolution of the earth. It’s the moon’s fault. With each turn of direction the waters around the earth wash away footprints – impressions (or PROOF ) of our having walked on beaches. Sea creatures flop on the sand, leaving faint traces of their existence, best commended to the sea from whence they came. And yet, we chase our footprints, hoping to immortalize them in Selfies and souvenirs within the same vast depths of our own psyches.
For me, the notion of separating past, present and future gets complicated sometimes. Feelings do not respect boundaries of mental constructs, such as time. They simply are a faculty of experiencing this life and I am grateful for them in all their messiness…. like the messiness of a phantom wave crashing in behind me as I walk the beach! There goes another footprint returning to its maker (which is not me, but the Creator of all things.)
Footprints are a metaphor for all those mistaken creations that I claim for myself… memories that I still carry with me in the corners of my mind to gather dust… not sparkling sand. The transience of all things, especially emotions makes me feel vulnerable, like that waves sneaking up on me.
But what if a shift in perspective could remedy my reflexive fear of loss? What if trusting that something as good as that precious footprint or even better, was coming my way? What if I could just bid that footprint adieu?… until we meet again… Happy trails to the fishies? And more to the point, what if I could let go of everything in my life that I have either outgrown (both people AND clothes)?
Then I could make space for wonderful new energy to rush in when I least expect it… like that curling wave as the tide foams its way across my toes. I would more easily feel part of the great cosmos, or at least part of the great ocean of life.
Happy trails fishies… Happy wading tootsies!
L.S. Berthelsen 