Reflection is an interesting phenomenon. One might say it is the pursuit of insight.
Insight is neither planned nor expected. It ebbs quietly like the tide; we sit in the sand as the odd reach of water licks our feet, teasing us and leaving only dry salt between our toes. Watching the horizon with intent, the expanse seems eternal and by a desire to see more, we will it to change. But who can change the ocean? Precisely in the moment when our yearning seems to fail us, we are caught by a crashing wave that pulls us into the very essence of the tides, where we are thrown about by the currents before being washed up on shore to bask in the sun. The expanse has not changed, but again we peer at the horizon— this time from a different spot on the beach.
It is curious, but I have little to say about our reading today. Perhaps my view of the horizon is obstructed by my preoccupations right here on the edge of the water. It is sometimes enough, however, to steward the stretch of sand that lies right before us.