Poetic Words and a Favorite Quote from:
by
dancingintent determined learning
funeral wither unfold
friends
bridge quality living
process pep culture
suffer cry love
suffer cry love
embarrassed lucky compassion
open-minded spiritual bird
optimistic family beamed
patience
touch acceptance presentgive energies compromise
envy attention status
satisfaction
frightening coaxed tears
sing kindness forgive
cherish harmonious details
detach
cherish harmonious details
detach
On page 179-180 Albom writes that Morrie is relaying a story to him about a tiny wave. Towards the end of the tale, the wave sees the beach and begins to panic.
"The first wave says, 'you don't understand! We're all going to crash! All of us waves are going to be nothing! Isn't it terrible?' "The second wave says, 'No you don't understand. You're not a wave, you're part of the ocean.' "
We are-all of us, the waves in the oceans of life. A sea of sorted souls bouncing and breaking through the currents of time. Washing ashore after a lifetime of tides, a single wave dies its momentary death. Briefly, it sinks into the sand to embrace the earth. But for the tiniest of times the water is held by its mother, before being reborn and returned.
No two waves are exactly alike. Like snowflakes of the sea, each one is unique in shape and intricacy. Two or more will combine to form the surf or even a storm, if there are many. There is no limit to the power of a great number combined. In one great effort, waves can move a mountain. Or chip away at it relentlessly like the biting teeth of time. They gobble up the molten rock spewed from beneath the crust of the Earth, then deposit it back to the belly of the sea where it is once again returned to stone.
The wrought winds sail on the swayed backs of blue swells. The surge grows strong and shoves the winds back. Whether tiny or tall these waves never stop. Their direction is tireless as they travel the world around. They are guided by the light of a twenty and eight day moon, but their one and only true ruler is held in the grip of the rotating heavens.
We are-all of us, the waves in the oceans of life. A sea of sorted souls bouncing and breaking through the currents of time. Washing ashore after a lifetime of tides, a single wave dies its momentary death. Briefly, it sinks into the sand to embrace the earth. But for the tiniest of times the water is held by its mother, before being reborn and returned.
No two waves are exactly alike. Like snowflakes of the sea, each one is unique in shape and intricacy. Two or more will combine to form the surf or even a storm, if there are many. There is no limit to the power of a great number combined. In one great effort, waves can move a mountain. Or chip away at it relentlessly like the biting teeth of time. They gobble up the molten rock spewed from beneath the crust of the Earth, then deposit it back to the belly of the sea where it is once again returned to stone.
The wrought winds sail on the swayed backs of blue swells. The surge grows strong and shoves the winds back. Whether tiny or tall these waves never stop. Their direction is tireless as they travel the world around. They are guided by the light of a twenty and eight day moon, but their one and only true ruler is held in the grip of the rotating heavens.
Thanks for Reading
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