Cumberland Island Musings

Is the design of this, of us, not a thing of wonder? The oceans ebb, flow, and crash into the land at both marsh and sandy waves. The rivers trickle and roar, bringing water from mountaintops down to this meeting of land and sea. Snows melt and flow down a mountainside as an icy roar until it travels across the plains, nourishing crops and filling reservoirs. Rivers run into rivers which make larger rivers and eventually make it to the ocean, the salty water an entirely different system of life and death, of organisms and patterns, habitats and relationships. And the mountaintops, the plains, the rivers, the marsh, the beach, the oceans – they all have their own systems, their own nature, their own sets of laws and rhythms. That then all connect with each other. There are collisions and transitions, mixing and melding, running over and pulling back as one ecosystem flows into the next.

And amidst it all, here we sit. From the day our lives started, our bodies knew how to inhale and exhale. Gravity held us in place. We were wounded and healed. We grew and transformed. Our lives collided or melded with others. Moved, adjusted, expanded and contracted. We’re overtaken by a rush of snowmelt, flowed and nourished others, retreated or became bold, tried a new path, went fast or went slow.

The intricacy and fragility of the design can take my breath away.

This all feels more apparent these days; not only what I see in nature, not only our physicality, but even I feel it with my own emotions. They are so fragile and at the same time, they keep me moving forward. Fragile yet strong. Both. Not one or the other. In fact I don’t think you can be strong without also having weakness inside.

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