This piece was beautiful. The ocean metaphor truly speaks to me. My meditation is picturing the waves rolling in and back out with my breath. Especially at low tide. When my children hit the later years of high school and then college, the absence of so much distracting busyness absolutely made me see that I was DONE w my corporate job and everything in that world.
Also - zero stars here on the southern New Jersey shore as well!
Thank you so much, Maria. It makes me so happy to know that this resonated with you. And yes…I think that’s exactly it. When the busyness begins to recede, it can suddenly become impossible to ignore the truths that were sitting quietly underneath it all the whole time. I hope that realization has lead you to find something that feels more true to who you are now.
I am so sorry to hear that Mother Nature was determined to test all of us along the East Coast this weekend! Where are you on the Jersey Shore? I spent my summers in Stone Harbor and have such wonderful memories!
Avalon!! WHAT a small world! Have a wonderful time - I hope that Mother Nature got her act together and showers you with sunshine! If you are in Stone Harbor, have an ice cream cone from Springer’s for me!
I love the way that this feels so connected to nature on a macro scale. Especially how the tide helped you to zoom out and bring a new perspective to the ins and outs (or ups and downs) of life. I'll remember that as I move through changes myself.
Thank you, Kate! I love this reflection so much. I think that’s exactly why I’m so drawn to nature metaphors in the first place — they remind me that so much of life is cyclical and deeply human. The tides, the seasons, the weather. None of them resist change, and somehow there’s comfort in that.
Maybe sometimes we all need that reminder to zoom out a little and trust that movement, ebbing, shifting, and becoming are not signs that something is wrong, but simply signs that we are alive.
Laurie this is so beautiful. I love the metaphor so much. I’m not sure I’ve done a great job sitting in the quiet of this time—I’m more like a chicken running around without its head—with all of my traveling. 😂 But I absolutely feel the pause in the low tide and know the water will return.
Maybe I’m more searching for precious shells in the low tide while I have the opportunity to see them.
Laurie, this is one of the most beautiful pieces of writing I've read in a long time.
The image of standing at the shoreline at low tide and seeing what's usually hidden, that landed somewhere deep and stayed there. Because you're right; so many of us spent years at high tide, carried along by the noise and motion of it all, not quite realising how much we were using the busyness to avoid looking too closely at what lay beneath.
The line that stopped me completely: ‘The chaos of a full house and full life was my drug of choice.’ The honesty of that, the recognition without self-judgement, that's rare.
And the ending, the water always returns. Not in the same form, not carrying exactly what it once did. That feels like the most important thing to hold onto in this season. That stillness is not loss. That exposure is not ending. That low tide is just the ocean doing what it has always done.
Honestly, my Lovely. This one deserves to reach far beyond Substack x
This brought tears to my eyes, Kiran. Truly. Thank you.
There are some pieces we write where we hope people will understand what we were trying to say, and then there are moments like this where you realize someone didn’t just read the words, they felt them. That means more to me than I can properly express.
And honestly, I think part of why this piece mattered so much to me personally is because writing it helped me make sense of this season too. To stop viewing the more exposed parts of midlife as something to fear and instead see them as part of a natural rhythm. Necessary. Revealing. Human.
Thank you for reading it so deeply, my sweet friend. I’m so grateful you’re here. XO
Yes, I love this metaphor. You are so right! All that busyness, especially when the kids are little. There's just no time to even think about anything else. I'm trying to be mindful of this as my waters recede slowly, so hopefully I will not be caught totally unaware when empty nesting happens.
Thank you, my friend. It is so easy to get lost in all of that busyness, which makes it all the more shocking when suddenly it’s gone. The fact that you’re already thinking about this and approaching it with intention is huge. I really do think that awareness makes the transition gentler. Not easy necessarily, but less unsettling when the shoreline starts to change shape.
Also, now I’m emotional thinking about us being old enough to even be having this conversation. Grown children? Empty nests? Weren’t we just in plaid polyester skirts getting ready for summer vacation?! XO
This piece was beautiful. The ocean metaphor truly speaks to me. My meditation is picturing the waves rolling in and back out with my breath. Especially at low tide. When my children hit the later years of high school and then college, the absence of so much distracting busyness absolutely made me see that I was DONE w my corporate job and everything in that world.
Also - zero stars here on the southern New Jersey shore as well!
Thank you so much, Maria. It makes me so happy to know that this resonated with you. And yes…I think that’s exactly it. When the busyness begins to recede, it can suddenly become impossible to ignore the truths that were sitting quietly underneath it all the whole time. I hope that realization has lead you to find something that feels more true to who you are now.
I am so sorry to hear that Mother Nature was determined to test all of us along the East Coast this weekend! Where are you on the Jersey Shore? I spent my summers in Stone Harbor and have such wonderful memories!
Avalon 💙 small world! I am in a house with my young adult kiddos and 15 of their closest friends this week.
Before we had kids, my husband and I always vacationed in New England.
Avalon!! WHAT a small world! Have a wonderful time - I hope that Mother Nature got her act together and showers you with sunshine! If you are in Stone Harbor, have an ice cream cone from Springer’s for me!
Love it
I love the way that this feels so connected to nature on a macro scale. Especially how the tide helped you to zoom out and bring a new perspective to the ins and outs (or ups and downs) of life. I'll remember that as I move through changes myself.
Thank you, Kate! I love this reflection so much. I think that’s exactly why I’m so drawn to nature metaphors in the first place — they remind me that so much of life is cyclical and deeply human. The tides, the seasons, the weather. None of them resist change, and somehow there’s comfort in that.
Maybe sometimes we all need that reminder to zoom out a little and trust that movement, ebbing, shifting, and becoming are not signs that something is wrong, but simply signs that we are alive.
Without sounding too woo woo, we forget that we are part of nature, so your metaphors are spot on 💚
What a beautiful metaphor. I am in a similar place. Thank you so much for posting this! 🩷
I am so happy that it found you at just the right moment, Emmie!
Laurie this is so beautiful. I love the metaphor so much. I’m not sure I’ve done a great job sitting in the quiet of this time—I’m more like a chicken running around without its head—with all of my traveling. 😂 But I absolutely feel the pause in the low tide and know the water will return.
Maybe I’m more searching for precious shells in the low tide while I have the opportunity to see them.
Laurie, this is one of the most beautiful pieces of writing I've read in a long time.
The image of standing at the shoreline at low tide and seeing what's usually hidden, that landed somewhere deep and stayed there. Because you're right; so many of us spent years at high tide, carried along by the noise and motion of it all, not quite realising how much we were using the busyness to avoid looking too closely at what lay beneath.
The line that stopped me completely: ‘The chaos of a full house and full life was my drug of choice.’ The honesty of that, the recognition without self-judgement, that's rare.
And the ending, the water always returns. Not in the same form, not carrying exactly what it once did. That feels like the most important thing to hold onto in this season. That stillness is not loss. That exposure is not ending. That low tide is just the ocean doing what it has always done.
Honestly, my Lovely. This one deserves to reach far beyond Substack x
This brought tears to my eyes, Kiran. Truly. Thank you.
There are some pieces we write where we hope people will understand what we were trying to say, and then there are moments like this where you realize someone didn’t just read the words, they felt them. That means more to me than I can properly express.
And honestly, I think part of why this piece mattered so much to me personally is because writing it helped me make sense of this season too. To stop viewing the more exposed parts of midlife as something to fear and instead see them as part of a natural rhythm. Necessary. Revealing. Human.
Thank you for reading it so deeply, my sweet friend. I’m so grateful you’re here. XO
Yes, I love this metaphor. You are so right! All that busyness, especially when the kids are little. There's just no time to even think about anything else. I'm trying to be mindful of this as my waters recede slowly, so hopefully I will not be caught totally unaware when empty nesting happens.
Thank you, my friend. It is so easy to get lost in all of that busyness, which makes it all the more shocking when suddenly it’s gone. The fact that you’re already thinking about this and approaching it with intention is huge. I really do think that awareness makes the transition gentler. Not easy necessarily, but less unsettling when the shoreline starts to change shape.
Also, now I’m emotional thinking about us being old enough to even be having this conversation. Grown children? Empty nests? Weren’t we just in plaid polyester skirts getting ready for summer vacation?! XO