There is something so comforting, beautiful really, about those things that are constant. And no, I’m not talking about the constancy of change. I mean truly consistent – like the patterns of the ocean’s tide, the enduring ebb and flow. I can go to any shoreline in Nova Scotia and be assured that the waves will be rhythmically rushing in to meet me, and slowly leaving me again, only to return. Sometimes I might have to venture further out to greet the incoming waves based on the tide’s schedule, but I can count on those waves being there. Today. Tomorrow. Long after I’m gone. The earth offers us so much comfort in its constancy – the changing of the seasons, the brilliant autumnal foliage celebrating the death of one season and the dawning of the next, the early end to the days of winter, the hope that winter solstice and the slightly longer days it brings, the sweet smell of the earth warming in spring and the chubby tufts of green pushing through to say hello, and the buzzing of the cicadas and the humming of the bees and the sweet kiss of the sun that summer brings. We rely on those patterns. We are creatures of those habits. And so we live in harmony with the earth, if we allow ourselves, and we adjust accordingly.
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