In finer print...

In the last 5 years, I have moved back and forth from my hometown for work. I am finally back. Why am I saying is because with my coming back, my relatives far and wide, while not sure if they are happy to have me back or no, they definitely want to meet me. And I don’t want to. So what do I say – I say I am very busy. So much so that I really have no time to pick up the phone to make a call. I am so busy that I live between office and home.
I have kept up with this excuse for a long time now. I have canceled meeting friends, family and even going out because I am too busy. But am I too busy? No. Yes, I do have a huge, never-ending list of things to do, but I put them on a backburner because I like to think I am too busy. In short, the idea of being ‘too busy’ is a farce. It is an excuse we use in abundance.
Constantly telling ourselves that we are busy is in a way training our mind and body to believe it. It causes us to overthink, leaving little or no space for thinking about ourselve…

There is something about the turbulent sea waters, crashing and breaking in waves on the multitude of rocks lining the shore. The ebb and flow of the water, albeit choppy, has quite the opposite effect on me – it calms me and soothes my frayed nerves. The salt in the air acts like a sponge, absorbing the grime of drudgery from myself, leaving my pores empty yet alive. With the sea spread out in the front, it asks me nothing as it lets me be. I am a mere being, watching, unable to fathom this unfathomable being, simply a spectator of no consequence.
It accepts me as my mediocre self, the average person, not expecting anything in return. The camaraderie we share is unique yet commonly common. The sea holds no prisoners and frees me from my derelict soul.
It gives me no direction, only hope that change is meant to be. That I cannot stop its flow nor the flow of life. I am to be as it is to be. It tells me no tales, makes no promises. But it takes from me what I must give in order to reliv…