Tides of Change (Part 2)

The ocean stands before me, vast and sparkling with sunlight. It's tides rise and crash, then quietly recede to build up strength and once more send a spray of white foam upon the pristine beach sands and sunburnt rocks. I've got no idea how anyone could fall asleep to the sound of waves crashing--the pugnacious tides are too loud, too explosive in energy, too irregular.

These tides I so wistfully lament are not unlike the tumultuous tides of change occurring in recent memory.

I read this book while depressed over something or other in August, a book about power, and it seems that singlehandedly triggered a tsunami of Change within me. It unchained a bit of greed, a bit of ambition and somewhat ocd like tendencies for symmetry and scorn for those who consciously choose to half ass something instead of doing it properly. It peeled away the layers of awkward unfailingly polite platitudes, the strained fake smiles, to expose more of the person I truly am deep down.

You have to be able to accept that the tides of Change will come, that sometimes your best laid plans will be swept away. Your chariots, your castles and your war chests may be swept away, but a king is a king, regardless of his trappings or his dwellings.

One must also have a story to tell, to be more than a quivering sheltered milksop born with a silver spoon in his mouth. One must be steadfast and resolute no matter the situation, and should be capable of forging his own legacy.

I now turn away from the ocean, having accepted the lessons it taught me with its ever changing tides. I drove some three hundred miles to achieve the solitude and mental clarity required to put my thoughts into words.

And it was worth every penny I spent from my paltry war chest.