A Collection of Short Stories and Poems

God is Change

~This is the first entry I made for the extra credit thing I mentioned in an earlier chapter. You may have noticed that there definitely isn't 90 new entries. That is because a lot of them are too personal to post here. I'm usually very open to post personal views and experiences to you all, but this program for my class became more like a diary. I'm willing to share with you a few of my favourite entries that I made, but there is also a matter of you all don't need to read all of that nonsense. A lot of it wasn't pretty -- it wasn't coherent, it wasn't polished, it wasn't nice -- but it was definitely destructive to a high extent. But writing about it helped me out a lot. So, please enjoy my first entry from 1 April. ~

Sometimes I find myself lingering on the idea of the ocean. I yearned for her touch and for her destruction and her beauty and her softness. Sometimes, though, I caught myself mesmerised by her very nature for only a few seconds -- a blurp coming and going as if only a breeze --, yet, most often, I found those seconds bleeding seamlessly into minutes, those minutes into tens of minutes, and those tens of minutes into hours. I enjoyed the thought of her frothy seafoam greens and browns, that sometimes ugly mash of colour that crisped at the ends of howling waves that curled over each other in what seemed to be a race to the shore. The deep blue and murky turquoise of the water hid countless mysteries -- whales, huge flat rays that flooded over themselves, schools of the most unthinkable fish, and sharks that lurked under the darkness of the water. Who could've possibly created such unusual creatures? Did they all have a purpose out there? Each one carefully cared for by some God?

The Ocean did this to me. She moved in such a fluid way, never her same self for more than a fraction of a second, and yet we were able to depend on her as humans. Did she value us as we valued her? Did she care? Did she hate? I find it fascinating that we try to find God in the Cosmos as if God was some wizened old man sitting amongst clouds of electrified hydrogen. Why is it more likely to find God out there than on our own planet? I often held onto the idea that She is God, that deep, deep abyss of the unknown. Perhaps we didn't consider Her because we feared what she contained -- those ugly, terrifying fish that no one wants to think about over the vibrant corals and bubbly dolphins near the surface. Was it because she was too powerful? Because she changed too often? Because she couldn't listen to or answer your prays like the "Man in The Sky" supposedly did? But we also fear him. Was he easier to understand than the ways of our own earth?

I think it's because we fear change. We fear her power to change the land and the air and our lives because, to us, change is not to be trusted. It is dangerous. It's chaos. It's death to us. Our ocean lingers in our mind like the breath of death licking on the skin of rat cornered by a house cat. She craves our lives for hurting her and all that she's brought to life; she resents us for taking everything she offered only to throw it away in contempt. Perhaps this was it: God is change. God -- Our Ocean -- is always moving. God is fluid and adapts because, even without Humans to meddle in her endeavours, She'll be here. Prevailing, living, struggling, and blooming with whatever can make it through the worst we've given her. And that is what God is to me, something that cares for all even after we've left. She doesn't want our fear, she doesn't want our hate, and she doesn't want to push us off. She just wants change. . .