THE TIMES of the TIDES

As I look back over time I see seasons of prolonged ebbing of the tide, the waters of life receding over seemingly endless moments and days. In those periods the sand stretches as far as my vision and my bare feet curl into dry encrusted earth. Where is the water, I wonder, when will the seas return?

As if standing on my Pacific Northwest coast, small pools are revealed in the rock, caverns of sea urchins and starfish cling with mighty grips in the anticipation of the rushing surge of life. I wonder how long they can make it. I wonder how long I can.

Life is like this sometimes, the rise and fall of the tide. 

Life-giving water is beautiful when it splashes around our feet. Comfortably within reach, its searing cold freshness reminds ever nerve and fiber of our body that the sea remains. Constantly remains. 

And in times it departs, pulls back from the edge that is within our grasp, leaving dry sands, pools where we struggle to cling to life, moments where we draw only measured breaths as we wait for the water’s return.

This time last year I was in a season of the drawing tides. In my business and in my body the tide had pulled away, uncomfortably away. I found myself counting breaths, wondering at the dry sand, willing my eyes to see water on the horizon.

Would the tide return?

Life has taught me that it always does. 

And in the past I would cling to that truth as if the barren sands beneath my feet did not matter. The tough ones don’t see the pain of the challenge, they always know there is a way.

But there is pain in the challenge. There is much to be said about mourning the momentary loss. The encrusting starfish’s desperate grip may indeed be failing. In truth, not all that strives to withstand the water’s lack will be able to make it through.

There can be loss in the times of the tides and I no longer want to pretend that it isn’t so.

We need to celebrate the times of the high tides in our life, we need to stand tall in the waist-high waters and declare with body and action, “Life has been good!” Unashamed, unapologetic, boldly defiant and strong.

But to celebrate the high, there must be mourning in the low. We long to hide when our toes cannot find moisture in the sand beneath, we hope no one is watching as we count our labored breaths. We want to pretend it isn’t hard and in doing so try to convince ourselves that we are somehow strong.

But we are strong. Life is hard. Be afraid and do it anyway. 

The coin of life carries two sides and I wish we’d stop pretending it isn’t so.

I wish I’d stop pretending.

When the tide is out in my life I do not enjoy looking at the clinging starfish, I do not like wondering when the sea urchin will no longer be able to hold its breath. I want the waters to return, but I am willing myself to admit that it is hard to stand in their waiting.

The tide always comes back again, this I know, but in those moments of lack and pain I will allow my body to collapse in the dry sand and know that I am still strong.

Superwoman always rises.

But sometimes she must make room for mourning the fall.