I grew up in the midwest, the heartland of America, where the oceans are made of dark dirt and fast-growing corn. And now I live on the San Francisco Bay, where life follows the rhythms of the Pacific ocean.
But I spent the last week far from home, traveling near Boston, and I got to spend some time dipping my toes into a different ocean.
Even more than the vast blueness of the water, I was most drawn to the color and texture of the shoreline: the plants and animals tucked into the tide pools, the sun-soaked rocks lining the cost, the dramatic splashes of color. The details are so stunning in this place where water meets land.
It’s like a merging of two different worlds.
This season of life has felt like that for me. Walking on the edge between past and future, the edge between graduate school and career. All the travel and change of the last few months has left my life feeling disjointed, sudden, and unfamiliar.
But, like the coastline meeting of water and earth, there has been much beauty in transition. In this no-man’s-land that belongs neither there nor here, the details from both places are able to stand out.
The parts of me that are sea and the parts of me that are land are both beloved and necessary here. And I am grateful for the meeting places of the world, and the meeting places inside my soul.