As unstoppable as the waves that break and slide onto the shore at Roaring Beach, the sands of time — as they have done for millions of years — eventually fill the hour glass that is allotted each of us at our birth.
Last week I was asked to be a community mentor to young adults. This honorable request prompted me to ask myself whether or not I have learnt anything in the 66 years I’ve spent wandering the planet, finding myself washed up on several of its shores.
Its been a unique journey, for sure, but after working, living and studying in Russia, Scotland, England, South Korea, Canada, China, Australia and six states in America, have I gained any wisdom that might be worthy of transferring to a younger generation?
Perhaps a Roaring Beach Story written 15 years ago encapsulates a seed for further thought.
Is the sole purpose of a plant to grow? To expend all its energy into new leaf?
This evening in the dimness of a light drizzle, everything seems content just to have wettish faces. Near the dam a eucalypt grows, its trunk nearly horizontal from fleeing the prevailing wind. Looking at it now in this silence, in the quiet of the moment with its smooth, pale green skin releasing the few translucent peas of water that have gathered beneath its arms, is it not perfect? How can this be improved? Why should it?
Is my purpose to become or to be? Some days I am as content standing still as doing anything else. Some days I can just sit idle in the grass with no purpose other than to gather up the gold the Earth gives away so freely everyday, always.