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Maintaining my will to live has been an uphill battle for many years now. Wrought with an ongoing sense of gloom and doom, and a devastating loss of self-worth, just getting out of bed has been a monumental challenge on more days than I like to remember.
On the upside, the prevalence of this despair has allowed me to get to know it better, which has ultimately led to recovery. That being said, to keep my head up is an ongoing journey (which is why I make art so carefully; my mental health has been a very fragile thing). Still, there are still days when I wake up wondering why I’d bother to keep on living.
I was hit with such a day last week when I watched a bee die on the beach. I first noticed it scurrying on the sand with the desperate tenacity of life at hand. But much to my surprise, there were no monsters following. I could see no reason for its frantic hurrying. Even so, it toiled tragically across the slippery sand, wings out-of-service, reliant on feet and hands. But, clearly this bee was not made to traverse such a shifty surface; with every subtle incline, the sand crumbled beneath it. Every frantic step was a treadmill of defeat, a mirror to my own hurried efforts that only led to failing. I hurt as I watched and tried to intervene, flattening the road ahead of it, hoping to give it ease.
For minutes I watched and wondered where it was going and why, until at last it met the hill where it finally died. I was flooded with the uncomfortable mix of grief and relief as death is always heartbreaking, but sometimes comes with peace.
It reminded me of my grandma’s passing. Leading up to her-time-to-go, her life was painful and empty of hope. So, as much as my heart broke to see her leave, I was grateful she was free of suffering.
That being said, what stood out to me as I watched the death of this little bee was my little speck of envy: sometimes my heart just gets so tired of hurting.
Usually, in these times, I pull for meaning of some kind, some kind of purpose to keep me alive. But this meaning can be hard to find when my confidence has declined (and it had been pretty low at the time). I’d been bed-ridden from healing a long-term injury that prevented me from doing the things that keep my heart healthy: No exercising. No gardening. No volunteering with community.
That being said, I was able to make progress on a project I’ve been developing for years now. Even so, it can feel lackluster to be endlessly breaking ground. Of course, I’ve told myself over and over to just be patient: “Darling, don’t worry: you’re still developing it.” But, after a decade of deep tissue refinement, it can be hard to hold on to purpose: Will there ever be any value to my creation?
The doubt I’ve harbored of my life’s work has been a terrifying hurt: what’s the point of breathing if my creation doesn’t serve?
For all my life purpose has driven me as I’ve counted my worth by the extent that I’m serving. But, in the end, I didn’t feel any more worthy, as being purpose-driven has been a fickle feeling: What about the times when I can’t help because I’m sick or injured? What about failures or backfires -serving from a place that’s blind, sure that I did good, only to find I was misaligned?
Or what about the times when I serve and no one notices? Without any feedback, how can I trust that I’m of service?
Over my life, I’ve encountered all these challenges, each time nearly breaking me: righteous fights that only fed the fire; years of feeling out-of-reach, lost and expired; disabled, disoriented, and disconnected- over and over, I’ve lost my sense of purpose.
This was my state of being next to the little bee dying.
Desperate for something to encourage me, I walked to the tide-pools to find familiar mirroring: crabs positioned at the edge of the shore, right where the waves thunder and roar. I stood there and watched amazed as the crabs were pounded, wave after wave. With each hit, I braced for impact, expecting tossed crabs, like piñata candy after the bat.
But after every punch, they stood stoically -unmoved and unbothered as they braved the waves pummeling.
Eventually giggled as I wondered why they would choose such a turbulent place to reside. From what I could see, they’d be much safer if they just moved in a little closer. But no -these adrenaline junkies were into extreme. They clearly liked the fitful smash of the breaking sea.
Still, it was hard to believe that the crabs were there dare-deviling; there must have been a better explanation than ride-or-die thrill-seeking.
So, I began to research these intertidal species and got a whole education on this part of the land that’s mixed with the sea. Here’s what I learned:
Intertidal zones have 4 different sections that are defined by their height and (by extension) the amount of seawater that they have access to1:
The tippy-top zone (called the “spray zone”) is very rarely covered by the ocean (only getting inundated by super-duper high tides and storms). As such, this zone gets its water mostly from ocean spray (hence, its name). It’s mostly inhabited by species that can go long periods without drinking. Barnacles, for example, have evolved to catch and trap water under their shell, to keep them hydrated during the long, dry spells.
Just below is the “high intertidal zone,” the place where my little crabbies make their little home. This zone’s regularly inundated with high tide’s peak. Then, it spends hours quite dry in-between. Those who inhabit here can handle the waves pounding, and even find a benefit from the ocean’s clamoring. For example, perhaps my little crabbies like it for feeding: the water brings them food while the crash-zone is protecting from the birds who’d probably rather find their meal in a place where the waves don’t make an ordeal.
Below is the “middle intertidal zone” with the “low intertidal” even further below. Life is much more abundant here, as water is more reliable, and the waves are less severe. But, that doesn’t make life any easier: more life can mean more competing, and a greater likelihood of predators threatening.
All in all, Life’s balance of challenge and ease is clear for the intertidal species where abundance of water comes with abundance of predators, and a lack of predators comes with a lack of water.
Whatever life lands: there’s easy, and there’s harder.
Still heartbroken, I couldn’t help but wonder:
If life promises to suffer, why on Earth does life even bother?
Clearly, still confused about my own purpose, I held on to my practice, and kept digging: What other reflections could the tides offer me?
Hungry for hope, I began to nerd-out on some of the most fundamental aspects of the ocean’s rising and falling. Though I’ve always known that the moon causes the tides, I never really understood why. So, I dorked-out on the science, and found some helpful reflections. Here’s the fun-facts that responded to my questions:
First of all, the moon’s pull on the ocean is a function of gravity. Here’s how it works, with so much mystery:
The moon and the Earth have a gravitational relationship where they’re constantly pulling each other closer. That the moon hasn’t crashed into the Earth is a true wonder. In fact, many folks refer to the moon as constantly falling2. What keeps it in orbit is the fact that it’s moving at just the right distance at just the right speed -falling towards Earth without ever crashing. Indeed, if the moon were closer or slower, it would be pulled down. But if it were farther or faster, it would spin out.
Then there’s the fact that it’s just the right size to pull the oceans enough for the tides. If our moon were half-way smaller3, it wouldn’t be big enough to pull all that water4. Instead, its pull is so perfect that some have proposed that life was born of it. Here are some of the theories:
Long, long ago, the Earth spun much faster than it does today, making the days shorter, and creating larger tidal waves. Some believe these massive tides made the saline fluctuations needed to replicate life: DNA and RNA, the “messengers of life as we know it,”5 may have come from intertidal conditions.
Still, others have noticed that the moving tides may have made some fiction, causing a slow in the Earth’s momentum, and making our days lengthen. Some believe these longer days were essential for life to thrive and sustain.
Then, there’s those who have proposed that the challenging conditions of intertidal places created the pressure for ocean adaptations: fish growing lungs from the low-tidal water to inhabit the land6 and spread all over.
All in all, though it’s all a theory, the perfection of it has struck me completely:
Suddenly all my Wondering-Why dissolves into amazement of life from the tides -that’s only made possible by the pull of the moon, who orbits so perfectly that life has ensued.
Suddenly life’s challenges seem much smaller as I am consumed by this holy wonder: no longer asking why life persists, I’m enraptured by the miracle that it exists.
Suddenly, I feel different in my skin, amazed by the fact that I am breathing in.
The whole frame has taken different shape as I’ve stopped asking why to become so amazed.
So, though I may not know life’s big purpose, I have begun to find worth in it:
that the clouds float so high with a million pounds in the sky7,
that the falling moon helps to make life:
Everything we do and don’t understand, indiscriminately made with mind-blowing perfection.
I shed salty spray even as I write it:
You, my tidal treasure, are just so precious.
Let’s Stay in Touch
https://oceanservice.noaa.gov/facts/intertidal-zone.html#:~:text=The intertidal zone is the,extend for hundreds of meters.
https://ca.pbslearningmedia.org/resource/ess05.sci.ess.eiu.moonorbit/why-doesnt-the-moon-fall-down/
https://www.space.com/18135-how-big-is-the-moon.html#
https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/half-mass-moon/#:~:text=(Each lunar revolution takes about 29.5 days).,smaller and imparted less energy to it.
https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/moon-life-tides/#:~:text="The oceans' tidal flow helps,actually responsible for life itself?
https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2020/10/201027105334.htm#:~:text=10/201027105334.htm-,Big tidal ranges some 400 million years ago may have,on Earth during this period.
https://www.usgs.gov/media/images/how-much-does-a-cloud-weigh#:~:text=Detailed Description,Webpage offers all the details.
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