Have you ever heard the ocean breathe?
When my husband and I spent a week in Pahoa, Hawaii, we made it a ritual to walk to the beach every morning at sunrise. Silently, we stood together, watching and waiting. The ocean's waves rolled in and out rhythmically but with a persistence that felt almost heavy and relentless. After a few mornings of watching the sunrise and listening to the waves, I noticed something unexpected. The sound of the ocean began to resemble laborious breathing as if the waves were shouldering a burden, pushing forward because they had to. I had never experienced the sound of the waves in that way before.
It was right after the Kilauea eruption. Perhaps the waves were working harder, bearing the weight of that upheaval. But standing there, it felt like the waves were taking deep, long breaths--coming in, going out, over and over again. Their eternal job, breathing in and breathing out, which usually feels effortless, now carried a sense of profound effort.
Yet, even in this struggle, something was deeply moving and beautiful--an unstoppable rhythm, resilience.