In the Beginning

In the beginning there was a wave,

It started very small

No more than a ripple,

And then it began to grow,

And it continued growing,

Until it was quite large,

And then it grew some more

 

It was a beautiful day in Los Angeles

The surfers, with their hair bleached from the sun,

All dropped their jaws when they saw it,

Hundreds of tiny specks floated on the water in awe

And after a moment of silent synchrony, made up their minds,

Who was going to try to ride that wave

And who was going back to shore

 

Those brave enough, paddled out farther,

And soon everyone along the white sand shore was watching,

And as the wave got closer it got even bigger yet,

And one by one, the ambitious surfers retreated

By the time the wave reached the coast,

Only one speckle was left

 

He looked up at the great force of nature in front of him,

He was aware of his insignificance,

And still he was not deterred,

And he made up his mind then and there,

That he was born to ride that wave,

If he died doing it, so be it

 

And ride it he did

He broke through the wall of crystal clear water,

And he curved his body and board down its edge,

In one fluent, captivating motion

 

And he continued to glide down that wave as it washed over Los Angeles,

Over the beaches and the great rigid mountains,

And everything that ever was

And when the water settled it left the world,

And inside of that world was a wave,

It started very small

The Chase

Every time it starts to get dark outside I would like to pull a little string hanging down from the sun and turn the light back on.

I like the light. I like the mornings and the possibilities they hold.

To me, night feels like an ending of sorts, like the closing of the curtain on the play that was this day. This one day, that has never been before and never will be again.

I don’t like closure; I sometimes don’t watch the last episodes of a TV series because I don’t want to know how it ends. I don’t want to feel like its over.

When something is over you are out of chances, you can’t go back and do things differently, see things differently, say things differently.

And what is life without second chances, without possibilities?

These are the very things that give us hope, give us the will to carry on, to try again, and to keep trying until we have what we want — until we are happy.

When it comes down to it, that’s what we’re all chasing anyway — happiness. No matter which direction we run to find it. And sadly, some of us never do find it. It’s just too fast, too sneaky, too elusive for us to catch in its tracks.

But those of us who do… well, I wonder what its like for those who do.

And it is that very thought that makes me want to pull that little string and turn the light back on.