Sea of Life

I am sitting waist deep in a sea of personality. There is a current that runs from eastern Asia, one from south of the border, even one from a small town in Northwestern Maryland.

A wave of love without inhibition or concern washes right in front of me. To my right, a wave worn by old age and wisdom idles anxiously, with flowers in her hand.

A wave of curiosity, a wave of adventure, a wave of mourning, a wave of anticipation have all gathered here where the tides collide, the winds meet and the sands combine. Here, in the marketplace of rhythm, the epicenter of life the waves come and go as fast as a plane departing the runway where the promise of change awaits.

They pass me silently, occasionally bestowing a look my way. The majority are disinterested glances, wondering what they maroon-colored form is in the black, leather chair. Some show true interest as if they try to discern my story in the 2.7 second eye contact we share.

But my story cannot be bestowed in a passing trivial glance. But what's more is neither can theirs.

I will never know the tales of triumph, the sonnets of success, the parables of persistence or the riddles of reality.

I will never know the dichotomy of life that makes each wave so unique. So individual. So alive.

For that is the essence of life. The duality of it. The rising from the ashes. The incomprehensible moments that define us so fully.

I am in a sea of riddles. An ocean of enigmas. A crashing wave of diversity.

Yet together, we make up the vast, encompassing blanket of beauty that covers the earth. There is life all around me. I watch. I listen. I observe.

It suddenly puts the trivial concerns of my wonderfully average life into perspective. Ironically enough, in a sea of character, where I all too often feel I am swimming alone and against the tide, it's the many waves that create such a fullness to give me meaning. I am nothing without the waves. They shape, mold and define me with each crash into my calloused, rock-hard heart.

I am a product of the waves. And as I crash into a wave dressed head to toe in Green Bay gear, a wave with a spring in his step or a wave with sad eyes in need of a smile, I find purpose in helping to mold them in return.

Together, we all make up an imperfectly beautiful sea of life.