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We’re all waves in the ocean pretending we’re somehow apart from the rest of the ocean. Where does a wave begin and end? What does it mean to say you’re a wave?

It’s just a little story. Made up and essentially meaningless. We don’t mourn the passing of one wave or celebrate the birth of a new one.

You’re the ocean pretending to be a wave. The wave is just a little story applied to a piece of the whole. The wave is temporary, illusory and indivisible from the whole.

That’s not a sad thing. It’s amazing! You’re the fucking ocean. You’re the universe.

Resistance is futile. What is the wave going to do? Plot its own course? Go against the tide? How ridiculous would it be if a wave was trying to go the other way? Struggle with all its might against the swell. How much effect would that have? How dumb would it be?

You’ve told yourself for a very long time that you’re something you’re not. And you’re reluctant to let go of this notion. It feels like a death. Unbecoming the wave.

But you’ll be born into being the ocean. And you can’t avoid dying as the wave. Some day you’ll crash onto shore and be gone.

You will die. But you don’t have to wait until then to unbecome the wave. Die today as the wave and return to what you always were already, the fucking ocean.