The Shore

I swim in this ocean we call life.

 

We start on the shore in our mother’s womb. It’s safe, it’s warm, and that’s all we need.

 

We grow a little older, and we wade in the shallows. When big waves come along, we retreat to the safety of home, of the shore.

 

We get to high school and college, and we are tempted to wade further out. Never quite leaving the bottom, we still manage to get in over our heads sometimes, but the safety of shore is never truly far from sight.

 

And then we HAVE to make our own way. We hear rumors of ANOTHER shore, some other place away beyond our sight. But to get there, we have to step out on our own.

 

Some of us never really make that step. We live in the same areas as our parents, our friends from high school, our flotsam collected along the way. We never lose sight of that first shore we came from, playing just beyond the breakers, but never pushing further.  It makes us feel safer, not being in that great big ocean alone.

 

Some of us push off and make our way into deeper waters. We swim out past where we can see the shore. But we keep trying to look back, keep trying to keep our heads above water. We swim against the currents to try to get to some predetermined location we have fixed in our minds. And so eventually we either drown, or we swim back to the shore because it’s too hard to do otherwise.

 

We can flounder and splash and complain on the surface all we want, but the ocean never changes, never hears, never cares.

 

Still fewer of us  push off and never look back. We swim in the currents, letting them push us where they want us to go. They help us conserve energy. They do occasionally push us away from people we’d rather not part with, but we trust the currents are taking us in the right direction. We ride out the storms by diving underneath the turbulent surface to the calm water underneath. They help us see that trouble is usually very shallow. And we keep going, keep swimming, never quite knowing that there is something else out there, but sure that we can never go back to where we were.

 

 

And so, I keep swimming. Always forward, and never back.

 

 

 

 

 

Point of View

 I have my own unique point of view on the world. We all do. It’s part of what makes us individuals, unlike any other entity on this planet.

 

I have yet to meet another person that has a point of view similar to mine. A few of my friends share bits and pieces of mine, but not mine entirely.

 

I spend a lot of time thinking about various things. As Karen put it, I exist at a “deeper level” than 98% of the people out there. This contributes to my point of view being different, and it also contributes to the fact that I HAVE an educated point of view on almost any topic someone brings up. I’ve thought about it, researched it, and formulated some type of opinion on it based on the facts of the subject at hand. I’ve also experienced a lot in my short life, lived through some things that most people shouldn’t have to live through, lived through some things that most people SHOULD have to live through. It gives me a wealth of background for almost any question that comes up.

 

However, there are two downsides to this.

 

1)      I frequently find that I have to tell someone “Live my life the way I have, then you’ll understand why I feel this way” on particular subjects. I can’t always explain why I am the way I am, just that certain actions or feelings are just right for me based on my past experiences.

2)      I wonder sometimes if there is anyone out there who can see my whole self and understand. This does not have to be a romantic involvement, just some type of kindred soul who can really understand me. So far I have not found that person, which leads me to conclude so far that I am truly alone in my understanding of this world.

 

 

Note, the last sentence really does concern me on a base level. While it would be nice, it’s not necessary to my survival. I’m always been content with myself and who I am. And I never worry about making my own decisions, even when everyone else I know is against what I may decide.

 

Anyways, one of the myriad things I’ve been thinking about.

 

 

 

Footprints on the heart

Some people enter and leave our lives with haste.

 

Other people stay a while.

 

They grace us with new understanding.

 

They show us parts of the world hidden from us.

 

They leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same.

 

 

(not an original creation of mine, just something that struck me)

What do you say?

I see the world in a different light.

You see day, I see night.

Who's to say which is right?

I pour my soul into my life,

I get in return disbelief and strife.

Even when I explain my side,

and try to take your barbs in stride,

you still hurt what's left of my pride.

Others judge on incomplete facts,

and give you their own tacts.

Yet they can't know what's left inside,

Do you?