Moving toward the tide
#15—Challenging our perspective of movement.
Welcome to Mind Flexing, your weekly thought expedition to everywhere and anywhere. Strap on your boots (or put your feet up), take a deep breath, and let’s get flexing.
The surging serenade of the waves softly roars to a crescendo from beneath the salty breeze, and fades. It pulls away. It dissolves as the wind takes charge, momentarily caressing my cheek until a wave’s roar returns to steal my attention. The sea swells to tickle the soles of my feet and submerges the soul of my heart. It pulls away.
Voices chatter and giggle incoherently as I watch the white foam of the day’s lower high tide inch back toward me in the late afternoon light. It splashes over my ankles and spills up the sand, stretching further than before.
And so moves the tide as it dances with the moon.
Up there, in the moon’s Autumnal sky, the Emu that lives in the dark spaces of the Milky Way begins to rise; it signals the start of the breeding season. It peeps its head above the evening horizon, then rises to cross the night. It returns, night after night, tracking across the sky until it disappears into the summer.
On the beach, I stand still, and the waves break and move toward me. The stars move across the sky.
Or do they?
Do they move? Or is it I that am fooled by my human-centric perspective? My life of illusion.
The universe may constantly expand, but from earth, the stars don’t visibly move in our lifetime. They sit in the heavens, in situ, while the earth rotates on its axis and journeys around our star, the sun.
We move, coming and going from the stars.
And on the beach, I stand still. The waves do not approach me. I approach them. I stand on my earth as it rotates into the tidal bulge of the sea—the mass of water forever pulling toward the moon and its gravitational power.
I stand still, my feet stationed in the sand, and the earth moves me toward the tide. Motionless, I push into the cool water, and it feels incredible.
Video of the earth’s rotation against the night sky.
Things I’ve enjoyed reading on Substack this week
Is There a God of Punctuation?—by Mary Roblyn
What’s in a name? Is it Faith Lilac Way? Or Faith, Lilac Way? Mary delicately extrapolates this thought with her poetic touch.
when writing fails me, reading scoops me up—by Luisa Skinner
Luisa has released the list books by female authors for the 2024 book club, and it’s tremendous. My own reading list is already longer than I will manage this year, but I will aim to read a few on this list. I’ll be watching and reading with interest.
Do Books Belong to Their Writers?—Elif Shafak
Should Gabriel García Márquez’s latest novella have been published? Elif reads into the situation.
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I’ll be back next week. Until then, keep 💪.
Oh wow, really nice descriptions. The reader can really immerse within the feeling of the tides motion and the stars immutability. Humans really do feel small in front of these natural phenomena; it really puts things into perspective.
Perspective is endlessly fascinating, isn't it? Perhaps the closest we can come to experiencing the universe "as it really is" is understandling a little of the vast gulf of our partiality.