Gulls

Last weekend as I sat amongst the rocks that lay imprinted upon the Cape shoreline, a huge flock of gulls flew overhead. At first it appeared that there was mass chaos- no order or form to the pattern of their flight like one would witness amongst fold of geese heading in the same direction looking for the embrace of warmer weather. However, as the seconds passed by, the chaotic flurry shifted into a choreography of life at its very essence. As the scene unfolded, my gaze drew to the eye of the storm and at the shifting center was a gull with what appeared to be a highly coveted cheese puff in its mouth. Its wings beat furiously, pounding back the advancing hoard of hungry squawkers, and through dives and ascents the gull averted the advances of its peers. As more time elapsed, the hoard started to settle amongst the crags and stones while the lone gull with its lofty prize hovered aimlessly overhead- it could not land, it could not rest, it could not be at peace, -it could not let go. Eventually, the gull's beak crushed and let dissolve that which in the past seconds had seemed so vital to hold on to, and with crumbs left scattered, it returned to the other white bodies speckled amongst the shoreline, -blending back in amongst the fold of hungry searchers, -not so different from one another in the struggles of nature, but certainly not the same in each of their experiences.

Watching this scene was a powerful reminder that the things that we hold on to, the experiences, the memories, the pain, the labels that we think define us, are the very things that we cannot negate. Rather, they are the things that we either choose to embrace or choose to loosen our grip on and let dissolve lest they become the very things that hold each one of us back from landing in the present: in the presence of peace and into the open arms of love.