The Leaf and the Ocean

There are rhythms in my life, repeated sequences of events which seem to beat at a fundamental frequency, moving me up and down along a sinusoidal path of feeling and emotion and fulfillment.

It is not certain whether my life is currently in a trough of the waveform, but it feels like it.

Like a leaf blown about on the surface of the ocean, my life travels up and down along the crests and troughs, riding the wave, rising to the summit in an ecstasy of joy and then descending to the darkening depths in despair. Such a lightweight, lilting, loose leaf without real substance or weight, without anchor, without direction, without purpose.

Sometimes it is enjoyable to live the life of the windblown leaf, seeing where the wind may blow, experiencing each high and low as a new and interesting story, a new chapter with the finale yet to be written.

But over time, the leaf becomes weary of the rising and falling and rising and falling, and merely wishes to find the shore where it may be possible to sit and be still and ponder and think and remain - immovable, entrenched, solid, stable.

My life is driven not by the whims of my own fancy but by the promises of others - the ones who offer employment in areas where my mind may have some interest. In each circumstance, their promises tempt me in some aspect where it may be possible to learn something new; they offer a way to satisfy my creative longings, a way to satiate my desire to build something wonderful, something new. They offer me something that cannot be obtained on my own, with my limited resources: to be a part of a team whose goal is nothing less than the creation of a System, a Mechanism by which the world will be made better, faster, stronger, more reliable. They offer me, a person too afraid of his own shadow to knock shyly upon a stranger's door, the opportunity to be a part of something Great.

In so doing, they offer much else besides, for the journey is not mine alone to take; a family accompanies me, a family for whom every ounce of my energy is expended in attempting to maintain their health, their well-being, their happiness and comfort. In choosing to pursue one promise or another, it is my intent to bring a better life and a better opportunity to my family so that they might also reap the benefits of this promise as my companions, my helpmates, my infrastructure.

It is for this reason that, when the promise is reneged upon, when the temptations are revealed as hollow and empty, when the fine words are revealed as nothing more than wisps of smoke, my ire is increased an hundredfold; my anger seethes, my eyes burn with rage, and my body trembles with anticipated revenge.

Yet Something stays my hand; my tongue is restrained from blistering those who deserve worse. There is yet some deep, hidden sentiment which holds me back, some vestige of loyalty to the dying dream which keeps me from abandoning the enterprise. Perhaps it is for those with whom the dream has been shared, those fellow-workers who have joined me in the struggle to achieve greatness, experiencing the same ups and downs. Perhaps it is for those who have truly done all they knew to do, even though they came up short. Perhaps it is merely for the sake of the dream itself. My hand falls to my side; my tongue remains silent.

And this is why I stay too long.

And that is why the crises arises.

And that is why the leaf stays on the ocean.