The other morning I sent a message to my dear friend Hannah that said that things were feeling a little like ground hog day.

I wake up early – too early if the Furry Alarm Clock decides that 0300 is actually bfast hour – make a coffee and myself some bfast, sweat, fill my day with tasks that make me feel useful while sweating, sweat some more, have a beer or three, make myself some food, watch some mind numbing TV, fall sleep on the sofa (those pesky solar panels still taking up the bunk) sweat while I am sleeping, and get up and do it all again. And, if I am being really honest, you could probably insert pick up/check my phone after every other thing on that list because my main source of connectivity to anyone I care about is that god forsaken device.  

I guess I shouldn’t complain considering JULY.

But then I realize I haven’t spoken to anyone in person but Kitten for most of the week, and some days just seem longer than others. Not to mention that I am getting rather frustrated at the dopamine rut I have let myself fall into, and the fact that I find myself with very little motivation to try and get out of it.

Later that same day, I stumbled across this excerpt from Tolstoy’s journal:

1858
Sept 19: Decide that one must love and work, and that’s it.
Sept 20: Tired. Didn’t love and didn’t work.

My first thought was, I guess it happens to the best of us. One day is productive and positive, the next day you are alone and grumpy. My second thought was, there’s no hope! If this has been the norm for a 170 years, and humanity hasn’t found a way around it, then why would I be able to think my way out of monotony?

Tolstoy can always be relied on to cheer one up.

Then I thought of the thing that Steve often says, that everything ebbs and flows like the tides.

And that’s totally true. Things are cyclical, so just wait and things will change. It’s fun to surf the highs, those are the easy days when the conditions are perfect. And the lows…well, this is when it’s handy to remember. When you’re feeling all exposed and ugly and strange like things are during low tide, just keep reminding yourself that soon enough the water and your spirits will be high again.

But what if you’re not exactly feeling like it’s low tide or high tide, what if you’re just stuck in middle? When the water looks still enough, when there is neither a glamourous high or a hard to deal with low….just a middling…those are the tough spots.

When it comes to the ocean and tides, those middling times are actually the ones to be reckoned with. Sure the high tides look really pretty, and the low tide expose things you’d never imagined existed below the surface. But those times are also called ‘slack tide.’ Because during those hours the water is relatively still and easy to navigate.

The middle hours of the tide, is when the current is strong and the danger high.

I’ve seen eddies and whirlpools and rips at mid-tide. I’ve watched Kate be brought to a near stand still at mid-tide when we tried to enter a lagoon in the Tuamotu. And I’ve held on and watched the bow be awash in green water when we pushed through a pass on a mid-tide.

I come from a place that has the highest tidal difference in the world. The bay of Fundy has a 16 meter difference between low and high tide. To put this in perspective the global average is about a meter and a half.

The average tide cycle happens about every 6 hours and the movement of water can be roughly calculated in a pattern of 1-2-3-3-2-1 . This means that during the mid-tide hours the water is moving most rapidly and with the most volume/force. Standing on the shore in the Bay of Fundy you can literally hear the tide rushing towards you.

Is monotony just enduring against the long, hard middle times that keep rushing towards you?

The middle of any journey is always the hardest part. You neither have the excitement of the beginning or the anticipation of the end, you just are right there, directly in the middle of things. And to endure you have to do things again and again and again. Maybe it’s not monotony but building muscle memory.

So perhaps I should stand more firmly in the midst of things.

I also know that even during the strongest tides, there are place along the edges were the water is calm and the current less forceful. Paths, that when found, can make forward progress possible.

Maybe life’s monotony is just a guise and what we are really experiencing is what powers us to get through the lows and appreciate the highs. Those mid-tide days are when life’s pull can be felt the most, and maybe the trick is to find the parts around the edges that are easier to navigate until the tide turns.

I wish I knew what Tolstoy wrote in his journal on September 21.

I did, actually, fall down a rabbit hole online reading achieves of his diaries, (which BTW span more than 60 years!)  I found many more entries about being tired and how he would feel so much better if he could just get his writing done. Once again I find these revelations both a balm and a worry. (Also, beginning to wonder if these sentiments are just a writer thing or if I might be Tolstoy reincarnate.) I did not, however, find an entry to follow these of Sept, 1858.

I’d like to think the tide turned for him, and the next entry was something along the lines of:

Sept 21: Got some words on the page. Had a lovely conversation with my lover over evening drinks. Tomorrow is another day.

On second thought, I think I am safe on the reincarnation front. And, I also know what I am going to write in my journal today.

Love,
H…&S