Do you not remember that once upon a time, the grains of sand beneath your feet were part of the majestic mountains miles and miles from here? All was, and is now, one great connective existence that knows no time nor limitations; no separation from itself.
Do you not remember that these tears that fall, that you so insistently claim as coming from your own story of pain and sorrow, come and carry the same saltiness of your oceans – far, wide, seemingly and endlessly deep.
I’ll try. I’ll try, she whispers.
Fear and fatigue give you temporary amnesia in this life and time; they soldier in armies that blot with dark patches what you knew then. But you remember now; as you wiggle your toes in the sand. As you lick your parched and quivering lips, you taste the trace and evidence of salt derived from the residue of all of the vast and receding waters before you. Before this moment.
I surrender. I surrender, she says.
In your surrender of tears, in the taste of their essence, you remember that these are not singly your tears that fall on the sand of sorrow, or joy. Teardrops fall, sand receives, and you take your place in the cycle of loss and renewals, grief and triumphs, despair and hopes; and once again fear and fatigue are marshalled back into the light of God’s truth of continuous connection.
I know. I know, she nods.
You remember again that these tears are yours, and not yours. They fall from and through you from the past, and for the future. They hold all of the loss of a lifetime, and beyond. They water the sands and the oceans of God’s infinite One.
For all. For all, she weeps.
And in this precious, sandy moment of sacred knowing, you understand that it is in forgetting your self that you belong. And in belonging, you find the Self as God created.
Thank you. Thank you, she prays, for these tears on the sand.