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I have now gone past my 80th year—and what a year this past one has been. Nor does it seem likely to get better anytime soon—Trump begins his campaign to deny the election is valid (if he loses, otherwise mail-in ballots will be fine with him); COVID 19 here in the US continues on and on and even seems to get worse; and hurricane season is upon us.
And still the seas ebb and flow, patient, persistent and present just to this moment, not concerned with the past or the future. Nor with the small creatures who do concern themselves with something other than this moment. Watching clouds form and turn so many different hues as the sun sets, I feel comfort even joyful. The world goes on, with me (us) or without me (us). There is comfort in that—and some perspective.