It’s a big, heaving, living, sighing thing out there: that great big sea that comes and goes and whispers and roars and lies calmly flat or rages and roils.


I imagine an enormous silent creature that rises as the tide recedes, its stony spine visible, one that is swallowed by the waters as the water rolls back in again so that I no longer see its bonewhite back as the waves charge up the beach and  ghost craps scuttle sideways in and out of the breakers.


Evolution is a slow thing. But not the movement of the ocean, the pull of tides. It’s on the turn. Every six hours, a new face.


And that makes me think about Change. I think of friends whose lives have changed already this year. Blink of an eye change. I think about friends who know their lives are going to change. I wonder about my own; about the changes that may manifest this year.


Some change is inevitable. Expected. Like the rolling in and out of the sea.  It changes shape, its timetable. But it’s going to happen. Change.

But some change hits you like a bolt from the blue. I know about that kind of change. People say change is good, that it keeps us on our toes, makes us better people, broader thinkers. And it does: the right kind of Change. But not that kind of Change. That kind of change unseats you so you topple and sway and subsequent decisions are born of giddy off-centre thinking and too little sleep.

Whatever its shape, whatever shape it leaves you in, there is apparently no alternative but to put your head down and brave it. I’ve seen friends rise with grace from Terrible Change. Did they, I wonder, stand in the storm and when the wind resolutely blew the wrong way, buffeted them mercilessly, did they learn to adjust their sails.

I think it’s easier said than done. So this evening, as my tide recedes  and the sound of the sea quietens,  I’m thinking about friends trying to manage sudden, ill winds and I’m wishing them a smoother passage.

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