Go with the flow

"The ocean," says John O'Donohue, "is one of the delights for the human eye. The seashore is a theater of fluency. When the mind is entangled it is soothing to walk by the seashore, to let the rhythm of the ocean inside you. The ocean disentangles the netted mind. Everything loosens and comes back to itself. The false divisions are relieved, released, and healed."

It wasn't until we actually lived on the water that we discovered that the Pacific tides are not as regular as the Atlantic ones; those lovely tide clocks they sell in the catalogs don't actually seem to work very well for us. And one key feature of this irregularity is that in winter the tides tend to be high during the day and low at night, while in summer they are low in the day and high at night.

All of which adds to our sense of confinement in winter: not only is it rather relentlessly gray and wet (although I confess this year was different, as we got lots of both snow and sunshine instead of clouds and rain) but even if we can go out there's no beach to walk; the tide is most of the way up to the dune grass and lapping at our shoes.

But the ocean still exerts its lonely pull on our souls. Perhaps it is the vast unity of it that calls to us, or maybe it's the sound of the waves slapping on the sand. It could be the deep promise of the always changing surface that masks the steadiness below, or the simplicity of the surface masking the teeming complexity of life on the floor below.

Or perhaps it is just like calling to like. Our bodies are, after all, made up of 60% water. And for us, like the ocean, it is true that the storms that move over the surface of our lives rarely disturb that deep serenity within -- it is only that we forget the serenity is there, or don't take the time to seek it out. And for us, as for the ocean, our outer appearance masks a teeming complexity of thoughts and reactions below the surface.

So how can that be, both this teeming complexity -- all those kids on the playground from yesterday's post -- and that deep serenity? Perhaps that is why we like to look out over the water: it reminds us that it is possible to have all those things coexisting within us; that it is possible -- especially if we take time to breathe and pay attention -- to hold all that in balance, to achieve a slow steady flow of rhythm which allows the tension and complexity, the serenity and simplicity to weave together in the seamless tidal pattern that is unique to each of us.

If your children watched Fraggle Rock growing up, you might remember this song -- its message does seem to relate to this post:

When every dream you've had,
Has gone from good to bad,
Get a move on.
(you gotta) Go with the flow.

When every road you choose,
Gives the loser's blues,
Get a move on.
Go with the flow.

Well, when you try all day,
Try all night,
Try until you drop,
Until it don't come right.
If you're gonna grow, you know you,
Gotta go with the flow.

When the dark comes down,
The night is all around,
Get a move on.
Go with the flow.

You know you can't pretend,
You're looking straight at the end.
Get a move on.
Go with the flow.

Well when you're deep in fear,
Right up to here,
It's a very ???? atmosphere.

If you're gonna grow, you know you,
Gotta go with the flow.

Get a move on.
Get a move on.
(you gotta) Go with the flow.

Such fun -- being a child of the seventies!

As always, the John O'Donohue quotation is from Anam Cara (© John O’Donohue. All rights reserved). To learn more about John O'Donohue, be sure to visit his website: www.johnodonohue.com