Wisdom of the Water

It’s been a while; I decided to take a sabbatical of sorts.  I’ve been quiet…healing…

I took time to just be, to get curious, time to reflect on all the things and all the stuff…I took time by the ocean.  I read, I practiced yoga, I walked, I hiked, I ate good nourishing foods, I drank lots of water, I stood in the rain, I cocooned, I cried, I grieved, I made hard choices, I gave myself grace and I wrote a lot.  I finally took the time I needed to get quiet and to start my healing journey from a place of acceptance.

 I know how blessed I am to be able to have taken the time I did, I know not everyone can just “up and leave their life”…I needed to…It has given me the strength to move forward-to be back in my life. What led me here has been shaped by moments of introspection, restless tides of emotion, and the gentle guidance of nature itself. As I prepared to share my reflections with you, I found myself drawn to the wisdom of the water—its ability to hold space for both grief and renewal, something both powerful and vulnerable. The lessons I gathered during my time away became the foundation for so much of my writing, including this blog, where I invite you to join me in exploring what it means to heal, to let go, and to embrace the cycles of life and loss.

The Wisdom of The Water

“It’s been like this since the birth of time…you’ve just now been initiated into the eventuality of truth.” 

As the wisdom of the water washes over my body, I feel a muted heavy calm, like a weighted blanket holding me into stillness as it eases my racing mind.  As the flood of anxiety disperses and my breath slows, I begin to connect to the resounding rhythm of the ocean, the ebbs and flows.  The stirring of the sediment below shifting and exposing what has been buried reveals a sense of unease. What surrounds me is muddied and unclear, a sense of panic begins to soak into my chest as I reach out into the waves that wash over me.  What was lifted and exposed begins to fall away, my hands numb from clinging so tightly to what I’ve already lost.   

As the sediment settles around me, the wisdom that washes over me- holds me. Floating, heavy and weightless, drifting in and out. The steady ceaseless flow of the ocean creates a pattern, a sense of stability.  What once settled heavy on my chest now breathes deeply through my lungs, a part of me. With every rush and retreat of the tide, a lesson whispered to me from the depths: “It’s been like this since the birth of time.” I feel it all…Loss has its cycles, its turbulence, its silencing calm. The ache in my chest is acknowledged by the water, not dismissed but witnessed, as if the current itself understands the weight of what I carry and so holds me weightless, floating.  In this immersion, grief is not something to be fought or denied but something to be let in, to swirl and settle, to teach me patience as the silt slowly settles and clarity emerges.  My fists clenched; tingling; unfurl. I let go!

In the gentle pull of the undertow, I discover a reluctant acceptance; the water does not erase pain, but it soothes the raw edges, cradling my sorrow until it can be released, but not yet washed away. Each moment spent in this elemental embrace reminds me that healing is not linear. Instead, it moves in waves—sometimes churning, sometimes calm—revealing that, even in the depths of loss, there is wisdom, renewal, and steady hope woven into the rhythm of the water. 

As clarity begins to form, I realize that the lessons carried by the ocean are not fleeting—they linger and transform. My breath aligns with the steady pulse of the waves, and I sense a quiet strength rising within me. The water- like my pain, sometimes a source of fear and confusion, now feels like a companion, guiding me through the turbulence and toward acceptance. 

I surrender to the rhythm, trusting that each tide will bring new perspective, and with it, a gentle hope that even in loss, there is possibility for renewal.

In the calm that follows, I float not as someone lost, but as someone found—embraced by the wisdom of the water, ready to emerge again and again and again because it’s been like this since the birth of time, and it’s only now that I recognize the eventuality of this truth.

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Thank you for being here.  I appreciate you!

Love,

J