I have this memory from back when I lived in Africa. On the days when I felt most alone, not because I didn't have people around, but because I missed home, I would watch the sun set. I'd watch it round the horizon and I would know that it would be arriving back home. It brought sweet comfort to my heart.
I found a new pattern when I moved to where I am now. The sun setting still holds sweet beauty, but there's a different rhythm I look for now.
When I find myself overwhelmed, I either go to, or envision the sea.
Even now, I picture the place on the beach where I go. Just over the log, down the rocks, and onto the sandy beach.
I look at the water, and over time, as the minutes and hours pass, I watch the water, rising and falling, just as it should.
I watch the waves reach their mark and then slink backwards. I watch them come to me and leave me. There is such comfort in me, knowing that these waves never go further than they are allowed.
I feel the same when I think of lightning, going only where it is told.
Wind blowing, however fiercely, only because it is allowed.
The moon, bright or dim, only because somebody told it where to stand that night.
There is sweet comfort in these rhythms.
Whether it's the sun or the water, or whatever it is I've found myself fixated on for comfort, it's all sweet comfort. It's good to know that these things go only where they're told, so I can rest easy.
I'm linking up for five minute friday.
