Where The Ocean Meets Our Dreams
From an outsider’s perspective, the scene might seem almost amusing — everyone in the same boat, yet each person feeling like they’re the only one falling behind. But I’m not an outsider; I’m right there with them. Life, it seems, is speeding by, outpacing how people redefine what it means to “make it,” and how they change their stance on matters influenced by an overwhelming flood of surface-level information masquerading as in-depth knowledge. We’re all in this boat, guarded and anxious, life jackets on, bracing for a storm, and plotting our courses with a “Plan A” and a “Plan B” in mind.
It feels as though we’re chasing clouds, unable to discern the fine line between ambition and overreaching, or biting off more than we can chew. Unable to tell if the stardust dreams we chase are as real as we are. As a child, I believed I could sit on a cloud if only I reached high enough, that I could build a castle of cotton-candy clouds. But, as I grew older, I was disappointed to learn that I couldn’t — that clouds were like fog, and I couldn’t hold onto it.
Applying that analogy to this phase of life might seem a little misplaced, but there’s a persistent whisper at the back of my mind asking, “What if your dreams are like clouds?” I resisted that thought at first, trying to dismiss it, but eventually, I realized that if I’m in control of the metaphors that define my life, I can reshape this narrative. So what if my dreams are like clouds? They might seem distant and ephemeral, always at risk of slipping away. But when it rains, it’s as if those dreams have materialized. The drops are nothing but a manifestation of my aspirations. Dancing in the rain, surrounded by droplets after the clouds have given their all — that’s my idea of “making it.”
It’s comforting to acknowledge that I’m in the same boat as everyone else. It’s a camaraderie of shared human experience almost, of striving, doubting, and hoping. Our destinations may differ, but ultimately, we’re all navigating the same journey back to where we began. Despite the uncertainty and the rapid pace of life, there’s a strange solace in knowing that we’re all figuring out the sea together. The transition from the comfort of the river to the vastness of the sea is meant to be transformative, perplexing, and perhaps even necessary. It sounds apt in theory, but to say it’s been daunting would also be an understatement. By the time we’re in the middle of the sea, I’d like to place my trust in the thought that we’ll have learned to navigate its depths, its highs and lows, and its hidden surprises.
Same boat, same destination, different journeys. I’ll see you at the shore. It won’t be a seamless ride, but I believe we’ll weather the tides, brave the storms, and outmaneuver whatever creatures lurk below, all while learning to embrace the sea as we go. I hope we find our version of what it means to truly “make it”, and someday accept that it wasn’t entirely about the shore, but about befriending the sea, and understanding its ways.