Captain Michael: Good morning!
Coffee fresh out of the percolator; Cigar lit.; Lightning flickering along the horizon; and the howler m
Good morning!
Coffee fresh out of the percolator; Cigar lit.; Lightning flickering along the horizon; and the howler monkeys complaining….
And somewhere between me and that lightning is a whole lot of water.
So it seems like a pretty good morning to begin.
Lao Tzu returned to water again and again because it possesses a strange kind of strength.
Water doesn’t insist.
Put a rock in its path and it doesn’t stand there arguing with the rock.
It goes around.
Give it a narrow opening and it becomes narrow.
Give it a wide riverbed and it spreads out.
Pour it into a cup and it becomes the shape of the cup.
None of that makes water weak.
Because while the rock is busy being immovable, the water keeps moving.
And given enough time?
The water changes the rock.
I spent a lot of my younger years thinking strength meant standing your ground.
Sometimes it does.
But age—and more than a few miles at sea—have taught me that there’s another kind of strength.
Knowing when to give.
When to bend.
When to change course.
When to stop wasting energy fighting something that doesn’t particularly care whether you win.
That’s not surrender.
That’s adaptation.
The ocean doesn’t become less of an ocean because it moves around an island.
And maybe we don’t become less of ourselves when life requires us to do the same.
There’s lightning on the horizon this morning.
I can’t do a damn thing about it.
But I can watch it.
I can pay attention.
And if it starts coming this way, I can put down the cigar and adjust accordingly.
The water would understand.
#WhatWaterKnows, #Water, #LaoTzu, #Taoism, #Philosophy, #LessonsFromTheSea, #SailingLife, #Adaptability, #WellLivedLife, #CrypTok
Captain Michael: Good morning! Coffee fresh out of the percolator; Cigar lit.; Lightning flickering along the horizon; and the howler mon
Good morning! Coffee fresh out of the percolator; Cigar lit.; Lightning flickering along the horizon; and the howler monkeys complaining…. And somewhere between me and that lightning is a whole lot of water. So it seems like a pretty good morning to begin. Lao Tzu returned to water again and again because it possesses a strange kind of strength. Water doesn’t insist. Put a rock in its path and it doesn’t stand there arguing with the rock. It goes around. Give it a narrow opening and it becomes narrow. Give it a wide riverbed and it spreads out. Pour it into a cup and it becomes the shape of the cup. None of that makes water weak. Because while the rock is busy being immovable, the water keeps moving. And given enough time? The water changes the rock. I spent a lot of my younger years thinking strength meant standing your ground. Sometimes it does. But age—and more than a few miles at sea—have taught me that there’s another kind of strength. Knowing when to give. When to bend. When to change course. When to stop wasting energy fighting something that doesn’t particularly care whether you win. That’s not surrender. That’s adaptation. The ocean doesn’t become less of an ocean because it moves around an island. And maybe we don’t become less of ourselves when life requires us to do the same. There’s lightning on the horizon this morning. I can’t do a damn thing about it. But I can watch it. I can pay attention. And if it starts coming this way, I can put down the cigar and adjust accordingly. The water would understand. #WhatWaterKnows, #Water, #LaoTzu, #Taoism, #Philosophy, #LessonsFromTheSea, #SailingLife, #Adaptability, #WellLivedLife, #CrypTok
Good morning! Coffee fresh out of the percolator; Cigar lit.; Lightning flickering along the horizon; and the howler monkeys complaining…. And somewhere between me and that lightning is a whole lot of water. So it seems like a pretty good morning to begin. Lao Tzu returned to water again and again because it possesses a strange kind of strength. Water doesn’t insist. Put a rock in its path and it doesn’t stand there arguing with the rock. It goes around. Give it a narrow opening and it becomes narrow. Give it a wide riverbed and it spreads out. Pour it into a cup and it becomes the shape of the cup. None of that makes water weak. Because while the rock is busy being immovable, the water keeps moving. And given enough time? The water changes the rock. I spent a lot of my younger years thinking strength meant standing your ground. Sometimes it does. But age—and more than a few miles at sea—have taught me that there’s another kind of strength. Knowing when to give. When to bend. When to change course. When to stop wasting energy fighting something that doesn’t particularly care whether you win. That’s not surrender. That’s adaptation. The ocean doesn’t become less of an ocean because it moves around an island. And maybe we don’t become less of ourselves when life requires us to do the same. There’s lightning on the horizon this morning. I can’t do a damn thing about it. But I can watch it. I can pay attention. And if it starts coming this way, I can put down the cigar and adjust accordingly. The water would understand. #WhatWaterKnows, #Water, #LaoTzu, #Taoism, #Philosophy, #LessonsFromTheSea, #SailingLife, #Adaptability, #WellLivedLife, #CrypTok
