I walked past a beach today and as the waves pummelled the shore I noticed how persistent it was in the monotonous push and pull, always crashing, never ceasing in its mindless churn. There seemed that nothing governed this motion but something deep within the Earth, invisible to the eye.
Something that kept all things grounded pulled the water to the Earth, and a floating object in the sky moved the water around. Something grounded, something drifting. The consistency of waves as the final result.
What I learned last year that I want to bring into this year is that life is all about this sort of balance. There will always be people telling you to be as grounded as you can be, to stay near family, to be in touch with yourself if you can. No reason to be floating around. Then there are those who’d say that discovery and being free of any chastening thoughts, spaces or cultures is the way to go about life, just figuring it out through being a free agent, unaccountable.
I think to achieve some harmony and consistency in your life requires a bit of both.
It’s important to be stable, to have a place to be, to come back to. I firmly believe in this because time and again when I’ve ventured out of my comfort zones a small part of me has gravitated to what I know constitutes my core, be it home, my close friends, my burgeoning interests etc. I come back to these things not stubbornly, as if holding on to something afraid of it disappearing but because I want to hold on, I cannot help but do so. These core aspects of myself are too deeply ingrained to surgically remove.
I think you can never be too grounded in anything that is wholesome and productive to your life. The problem is that it’s often difficult to see what’s good for us at the age we’re at. It’s easy to say that our feelings are correct at the moment but we never know what can change, and the thing that grounds us in the first place, be it a hobby, a job or a person, can also change as we do as well. It’s important to question the assumptions we have about these aspects of our lives by seeing them through different lenses. For example, as I leave on an exchange program this semester, I will question what home really means to me, and whether I can find another one halfway around the world. If the answer turns out to be no, then at least I know with more certainty where my heart lies.
We often fantasise about stability. For the most part, people want to be stable at the end of the day, not spending their whole lives looking over their shoulders and wondering what’s next. Career, family, home. A macro aim of sorts. At the same time, a lot of us in our twenties want to be surprised and enthralled in the current. We create micro aims to rock the boat now and then. We are the least tied down we’ll be in our lives and go looking for adventure, to get out there, to thrive in whatever environment we are put in. To be tired is something our youth can afford.
With a bit of perspective I don’t believe stability and excitement to be mutually exclusive. When we consider the wave, what we see is repetitive and deliberate yet in constant motion. It is this motion that physically defines the wave yet symbolically it is defined by its constance. To be out and about exploring the world constitutes this motion, but the spirit and mindset you take to your exploration should be the underlying constant. We bring on our adventures our own character that will always interact with the environment in a certain way and be shaped by it, and belying the aching need to be free should be a lighthouse in the distance that pulls you in steadily towards some future clarity, of who you want to be or what you want to do. In that way, we take ownership of our experiences.
As the waves crash on shore and fizzle out in silent whimpers just remember that it does so not in vain, but in worship of the larger forces that ensures its existence. As the wave withdraws from shore it has nowhere else to go but where it has come from. There’s something comforting about that.