....leave behind

Yogis,
To determine if the tide is high or low at any given point you can always look for the high tideline. That wavy line that runs along the sand, parallel to the ocean. A subtle divider that separates the darker, wetter sand from the dry. The distance it sits from the current water’s edge indicates where the tide is in her continuous ebb and flow.

The line is also recognizable by the variety of items entwined within it.

The moon’s gravitational pull causes the ocean to gradually move onshore over about a 6-hour window and then draws it back over that same time span. Twice a day. Every day. And every time it leaves different things behind in its wake.

Each morning you find the early risers slowly walking the tideline with heads down, looking for treasures. Whole unbroken shells. Maybe an occasional sand dollar or starfish. Polished sea glass and fragments of coral. Driftwood artfully sculpted by the movement of the waves. Gifts from the ocean. Some tucked into pockets to find new homes on nightstands and counters.

Other times though, what the ocean leaves behind should never have entered her in the first place. Plastic water bottles and baggies. Straws, cans, beach toys or wire. Waste that made its way to the ocean from our homes, roads and even summer picnics on her edge. As she pulls back, she leaves some behind.

Walking the tideline myself this morning, I was thinking how we are no different. We enter every day, like a wave, have an impact and then pull away. We always leave some imprint. What do I leave in the trail behind me?

We can choose to tread lightly and mindfully leaving gifts in our wake each night as we lie our head on the pillow to pull away. Or we can stomp heavily and cause suffering. Through words, actions, purchases or even our thoughts. Those who follow our line the next morning will walk through what we left behind.

I was pondering this while photographing carnations strewn through the tideline (perhaps a marriage proposal?) when an older couple walked by with their dogs. I approached to say hello to their dogs who were eager for attention. As I stood to leave the woman reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of colored hearts. ‘Take one’, she said. ‘You were nice to my dogs.’

I had a sudden flashback to my sister once telling me a woman gifted her a heart at sunrise.

It’s clear what can be found in this women’s tideline,
SARAH