Starting Over

I know that starting over is a good thing. I’ve had to do it more than a few times in my life, and each time I learn a bit more. The best way to think of it, and the way that will make it easiest, is simply to think of the waves at the ocean.

When you’re at the ocean, down by the muddy shore, you can dig your feet in. Think about how secure that feels. As the waves cover your toes, the coolness reminds you that you’re there, a part of something bigger. You know that you can’t stay there forever, but it sure feels good while you’re there.

The tide is no smarter than you, but it seems to have more influence. You stay as long as you can, but you know when it’s time to remove your feet. You see your footprints in the ocean mud, and with each wave watch them change. Your footprints become less well-defined, rounded, smoothed, eroding away—barely recognizable. It doesn’t take much time for that to happen.

You’ll remember those footprints were there, and possibly those passing may see the slight indentations where they had been. But quickly, inevitably you will be the only one—who knew—for a few moments, that was your place. I know of only one way to deal with that. Never forget you were there, but start over, again, with more energy—seeking that next spot to dig your feet in.

The Royal Report is one of my seashore places.