Turning the Tide in Our Favor.

Years ago, when I was a little adventurous boy, my brother and I were pirating a rocky island alcove on the Oregon coast when the tide suddenly came in.

I guess, technically, the tide never "suddenly" does anything, but we were young dumb boys searching for buccaneer treasure on this craggy outcropping, and we had lost track of time. It's one of those timeless mis-adventures that happened in Greek times, has been fictionalized by authors like Twain, and will happen to future generations: boys doing reckless things and losing track of time.


Corey and I didn't panic, though. We had a healthy respect for the power of the ocean, but we weren't afraid of it.  We had once rafted to Goonie Island (but opted against boarding its shores when we saw the millions [okay hundreds] of sea lions protecting its valuables), we had surfed the California coast, and swam in every natural waterhole that was warmer than 40 degrees in Oregon and Washington; so a little rising water wasn't a CODE RED.

Looking back, we probably should've yelled to our parents, who were never that far away (it was the 80s, parents let their children be children), but instead timed our 50 foot water escape right after the largest wave passed by.  We slogged/swam the distance in probably only a minute or two.  Nothing happened. There was no undertow or sneaker wave, it was hardly an adventure except for our drenched clothing and shivering faces. It could've been worse. So much worse.

But as young innocents, we never thought about the worst. You don't fear what you don't know can happen. We were protected by a loving force-field known as Mom & Dad. So we never panicked. Or at least, besides heights, which I've always had an unhealthy fear of, I never felt anxiety about anything.

Thankfully I never had to wrestle Vladimir Putin in a singlet.
 This might be the most disturbing image I've ever used.

I miss those days. Sometimes, when I hang out with my brother who is barely clinging to his thirties, we both start acting like little immature middle-schoolers. He's my best friend. Always has been. Whenever either of the two of us were going through something as young adults, we gave each other "poundings." It's a masculine way of dealing with emotions/anxiety/ stress/depression or whatever it was that was creeping into our psyche.  When we sensed the other was getting too insular and girly, we would just linebacker dive at each other and start a vicious tirade of back punches, arm-bars, and unsophisticated wrestling moves.  Unlike some brothers, this was not a violent act. In fact, these "poundings" helped me get through some very difficult times. It was great therapy; I've thought about marketing it: "How Spinal Punches and Body Smashes Can Pull You Through Anything."  Something tells me this would be a tough sell to the female audience.

I don't want to get too metaphorical here, but it sometimes feels like the tides of life are shifting. It's nearing fall, the colors are different, the smell after the warm rain is sweet, football is on television, and the kids are all going back to school.  It's usually a time of year I really enjoy.

But something seems different, now. Today. 2013. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

Maybe it's the Syria thing, or the constant upsetting news. Maybe its all the crap that my friends are going through. Maybe it is everyone else's tide shifts that are affecting me. I can't quite put my finger on what is so troubling, which is frustrating, because if I have a spiritual gift, it is most likely discernment.  Yet I don't know what my own direction is right now, let alone my loved ones who are suffering. I feel, sometimes, anxious about the future.

Corey (left) and myself circa 1983. Notice
the L.A. Rams jacket. I wish I still had it. 

And I'm not an anxious person. Stressed? Yes. But I've never been the type to worry about what tomorrow brings. In fact, it might be surprising to people who know me well (who think I'm a pessimist), but I've always had an optimistic view of the future. I have HOPE.  I always think the best is yet to come.

But it's so hard right now. Negativity wafts through the walls like a cold breeze. Everywhere, everyone is frustrated with the state of our nation. People don't hold back their ugly words on the President, the world, their enemies, their friends. And we are all so sensitive, suddenly. So everyone is on the defensive, saying nasty things, then getting their feelings hurt when ball is lobbed back in their court. Vengeance is mine, saith the American...and revenge is such an ugly concept.

I've wrote a lot about damaged people this last year.  I think like anything, depression, hurt, alienation, its all just a tide shift, a momentary swelling of water that makes us feel like we are drowning. And people who aren't good swimmers tend to panic. There's a lot of panic, even from people like myself, who are good swimmers. People screaming, "It could be worse...what if there's a sneaker wave."

Love getting blasted by ocean waves.  

What if there is? What can we do about it? I've never been afraid of water. I miss the innocence of my youth when I didn't know the dangers of rogue waters; didn't know stories about people who fell victim to the sea. I miss the simplicity of combating the challenge head on, without over-thinking the possible calamities.

So I'm going to do the only thing I know how to do: I'm going to hold my breath, pray, and plunge in across this tidal flat.  'Cause come hell or high water, I'm going to make it to solid land, and I will gladly grab hold of anyone who wants to go there with me. If the sea is especially troubling, what's the worst it can do...ground me into the sandy beach?  I've taken worse poundings from my brother.