From the boardwalk I see the cresting whitewater. The waves are big today. Beach chair in one hand, coffee cup in another, and my notebook tucked under my arm; I scan the beach and pick a spot for my chair close to the water and safe from the rushing waves. I see myself at the center of this blue-green day.

A visitor sits twenty yards to my right. He is not in a good spot.  I see the next set. The fourth wave is the biggest. I count down from ten. The wave rolls toward the beach, buoyed by the sandbar until gravity collapses the whitewater lip. The ocean rushes over the tide mark, flooding the visitor and scattering his belongings. Soaked, he retreats. 

Then it is my turn. A rogue wave rushes beneath my chair, soaking me to insignificance. Waves break under forces far greater than me: shifting sandbars, changing winds, rising and falling tides, waxing and waning moons, gravity that saves everything from floating into space.

Things fall apart when we put ourselves at the center. Anger springs from selfish needs unmet. Frustration overwhelms when things don’t work our way. Sadness wells when we reduce the world to our personal troubles – when we live alone as the center of our lives. Hubris explodes everything.

We lighten our load when we carry the weight held by others, when we listen intently, and step out of our own way. Our eyes open to see the road yet taken when we risk being known – honestly, openly, and without reservation.

Knowing people, waiting patiently, listening to the stories behind their choices, we can understand and be understood. We grow by opening ourselves while leaning in to others until our lives unfold in ways that feel right, make sense, and dissolve false expectations. 

We find our way forward when we hear while being heard, see while being seen, and feel while being touched. The back and forth spiraling energy of relationships wriggles us from the clutches of distracting narratives about who we should be. 

When we step out of our center to listen beyond our voice, see beyond our eyes, and think past our assumptions, then we leave the center empty: a hollow hub pulling things together. Rooted, we branch out, reaching for the light only we can see and responding to the call only we can hear. It is the dialogue between the self and loved ones that magnetizes our compass and shows us the way forward.