Tiny green ripples propelled by the slight, rare breeze. The sun beats down on us as we sit. My toe touches the water. Warm. It's strange for me, a childhood in Alaska has taught me that water is most definitely always cold. But here again, Thailand has shattered yet another of my ignorant generalizations. I am reminded how little I really know compared to how much is truly knowable... Tiny fish and water bugs make their way. The leaves in the banana trees rustle and we can hear the muffled voice of a teacher in a room in the building behind us. A thai voice, a few floors up, saying something we don't understand. The sound blends into the background and I realize how still it is... but at the same time it is not still at all. Ants scurry to and fro, water bugs and fish swim every direction, leaves fall silently to the ground, the grass sways, the fans in the rooms behind us spin onward, onward, onward... truly it is chaos, in a way. And here we are, sitting in the middle of it, insignificant to the tiny creatures and lives around us. "What are you doing?" we hear as a student in the building behind us calls out to us from the open window on the top floor as we get up to leave. We look at each other. No words pass our lips.
What are we doing? What is this thing we call life? What is our purpose? What is our goal? What are we doing? Tiny ripples... to the water bugs they must seem like huge waves. So could our tiny individual goals make a difference... could they be the waves somewhere, someday?
Absolutely.
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