The lesson from the Frying Pan Tower.
During hurricane Florence, a small video feed 34 miles off the coast suddenly became a viral sensation, as thousands of people watched a Stars and Stripes flag resiliently withstand 100+ mph winds, and intense rain.
The video feed was part of a project of explore.org, and the tower it came from is an old ‘light tower’ that is situated off the coast of North Carolina. The tower got its name from the frying pan shaped sand shoals it was originally built to warn sailors away from.
The flag, named by the internet as Kevin, was battered, beaten, torn and tousled during its ordeal, but after all that the hurricane had to give, the flag was still there.
Like many others, I have watched the video feed over the last few days (once the video feed was restored) and celebrated Kevin’s survival and became mesmerized by the stunning beauty of the ocean.
34 miles out, there is no sight of land, no other people or signs of civilization. There is just the sun, the sky, and water as far as the eye can see. You can hear birds, but there are few signs of anything else.
And for some reason, that simple clarity of the water, sun and sky has drawn me back time after time.
Over this weekend, I’ve thought long and hard, trying to understand the appeal of a simple video feed, and the almost hypnotic effect it seems to have on me.
As I write this on Sunday evening, I am still watching the feed, and listening to the sound of the wind, the waves and the guideline for the flag gently striking the flag pole.
And then in a moment of inspiration, it struck me I was watching because it gave me a sense of timelessness, of stability, of enduring and of resilience.
Because the ocean, that vast body of water that gives and takes life, will always be there. The sky, which is really just air bonded to our planet by gravity, has always been there and most likely will for the rest of my life. The sun will likewise be present all of my days.
In the midst of constant changes and storms, the sea, the sun and the sky will always be there.
And I realized that I needed that reassurance. The longer I write these posts, the more I feel myself changing, along with the world around me. These seems to be a seismic shift occurring in my soul, and while it intrigues me, I cannot deny that there is fear and trepidation.
Uncertainty is not my most comfortable environment.
And the ocean, the sun and the sky are certainties for me.
As the waves roll through the world, the ocean speaks to me, not in words, but in comfort, in certainty and in understanding. I can take my troubles to the ocean, and feel like I have been heard.
The absence of judgment gives me the freedom to feel and think clearly. The ocean renews and restores me, bringing calm to my troubled soul.
So I watch the ocean, and feel life flow through me.
Like the waves.
—Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings