Like these stone sculptures.
There was something about their still presence that captivated me.
Someone had spent the time to find the right-sized, right-shaped stones that could be aligned perfectly. Stacked them up. And then left them there for others to enjoy -- or destroy -- as they pleased.
Here were these smoothed-over rocks lying around randomly that someone had picked up and turned into artwork.
They sat there gracefully. Enjoying the view from their new vantage point.
The volatile ocean in the background providing a stark contrast to their quietude.
They looked unmoved. Resolute. Strong.
Yet so fragile.
Later that day I found myself experiencing the same swoop of silence.
A large cement ship, christened The Palo Alto, stoically resisting the throbbing sea.
A haven for birds. A sightseer's delight.
Built for one purpose. Cherished for another.Abandoned as they were, the stone sculptures and the ship shared a sort of silent bond.
Witnessing time fly by.
There was movement all around them, yet they stayed unruffled.
Each of them with some history and an unknown future.
Inanimate objects that somehow managed to inspire a deep sense of calm.
The longer I looked at them, the more grounded I felt.
Invoking a sense of calm.
I saw a parallel with the demands of life.
Every day a series of turbulences. Big and small waves.
If we could learn to stay cool and collected -- face the crashing tide with equanimity -- life would be so much easier.
And we could appreciate the beauty of it all from a unique vantage point.
An inanimate frame of reference.
Experiencing the rough seas but not reacting to the turmoil.
Finding peace within.
Also posted on my blog.