There’s an old saying that salt water cures anything - whether that’s tears, sweat, or the sea. Last week, I went to the beach with my family and experienced all three. After the difficult time that is always 9/11, along with the additional horrific and dehumanizing violence of that week, it was nice to have a little getaway.
Every day to clear my head, I took a stroll along the beach, bending down occasionally to look for seashells for my daughter. As soon as I saw one I wanted to grasp, I'd reach down through the surf, and before I knew it, the tide had whisked it away. The foam and moving tide blurred my vision so I could no longer see the selected shell, just a mix of colors and movement. Trying to focus my gaze, I’d follow the shell along its surf ride, trying again to pick it up to no avail. Eventually, I just had to let it go. I’d stand up straight from my bent-over treasure hunting and bring my eyes to the horizon to avoid losing my footing in the surf.
It's the same with events that make us feel we have no control over what's happening around us. If you’re asking yourself, “Why can’t we just get a grip on this?”, you’re not alone. National tragedies, personal losses, and the relentless pace of daily life can cause us to grasp the rails of our existence and look desperately for something solid to hold onto. It’s easy to fixate on the immediate chaos around us. The barrage of breaking news updates, social media scrolls, and the drama in our immediate circles causes our vision to become narrow and distorted. When bent over, we become tunnel-visioned and vulnerable to forces beyond our control. The tide isn’t bothered by us or our existence. It will continue to move as it’s meant to. It’s up to us to decide whether we’ll let it drown us or instead, fix our gaze on our personal horizons, and let it flow past.
Our horizons aren’t just what we see in the distance and strive for in the future. They are profoundly personal and entirely ours to define, yet paradoxically, they connect us to something larger than ourselves and each other. Family, trusted friendships, spiritual practices, genuine respect for and service to others, and meaningful work. They are what grounds us, what reminds us of our place in the larger story, and what matters. I choose to believe that the majority of people in the world include these elements as their guiding light. That we are not the outliers.
“We’re not meant to understand everything, but we are meant to have a deep connection with ourselves and others.
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Taking some breaths and intentionally expanding our view–whether literally putting our phones down, or figuratively considering longer time horizons–helps restore perspective. This isn't about ignoring the world's problems, but approaching them from a place of stability rather than reactive panic and despair. The person who picked up my jacket that unknowingly fell off my barstool or the driver who let me merge into the lane in the middle of morning traffic likely had no clue as to my political, social, or religious beliefs. These moments of connection, of decency, no matter how small, rise above all the noise. Let’s hold onto those. Let’s keep doing them.
This doesn't mean ignoring the destruction around us. It means understanding the difference between influence and control, caring and apathy, engagement and entanglement. It's the reminder that you have agency in your own life, even when things feel out of control.
We should be angry. We should grieve. Together, as Americans. As humans. We can have and hold our differences, but our echo chambers are hollow. They amplify our voices back to us without creating the genuine connection and understanding that could actually heal our divisions. Two things that are desperately needed, now. When we lift our gaze from our immediate tribal concerns to the broader view of our shared humanity, we create space for honest dialogue and meaningful change.
What really mattered during my beach trip wasn’t finding the perfect seashells. It was the experience of spending time with some of the most important people in my life, celebrating life. Sharing smiles with strangers as we walked passed each other. Talking about tough stuff, face-to-face over coffee and sunsets. Try to argue with someone while watching a sunrise or sunset. It’s nearly impossible. We need more of that.
Sometimes the most profound discoveries happen when we straighten up and look to the horizon, even if we’re still standing on shifting ground.
Eyes up, everyone.
