The sun is about to rise, but it is still hiding behind thick clouds that seem to melt into the ocean. Out there, almost in the middle of the water, is a tiny boat carrying just one person.
As I watch it, I realise this is not my life. It is a life I will probably never understand, and that is okay. I cannot imagine being alone on a small boat in the middle of the ocean, so confident that I could read the water, trust it, and find my way back to shore. There is a kind of courage in that which I deeply admire.
It reminds me that we all have places where we feel at home and places where we don’t. The sea is someone else’s place of certainty in the same way that other spaces have become mine.
Perhaps the person is fishing. Perhaps this is how they begin every morning. I cannot tell from where I am standing, and strangely, I don’t need to know. It is enough to witness it.
There is something beautiful about realising that lives are unfolding alongside our own that we will never fully understand. Different ways of being in the world. Different ways of seeing the world and different things that we worry about. Yet each of us finds a place where we belong, and there is something deeply comforting about that.
It is funny how I stood in the same place long enough to watch my thoughts change.
The sun eventually came out, stayed for a little while, and then disappeared behind the clouds again. But I knew it was still there, even if I could no longer see it.
For some reason, that reminded me of my own strength. There are moments when I cannot see it either. It feels hidden behind fear, uncertainty, or exhaustion. But perhaps strength is like the sun. It does not cease to exist simply because it is out of sight. It remains there, waiting to be called upon when I need it most.
That thought gave me an unexpected sense of hope for the future.
Until next time,
Jane 🙂