On Vashon Island, there’s a sand bank where the cliff is marred with words, names, and ideas–a kind of natural graffiti, washed away every rainy Seattle winter to be replaced with new carvings the next dry summer.
On the sand bank, there’s a cave carved into the wall. Not a big one, just big enough for a few small children or a large teenager to curl up in while their more adventurous friends climb higher, carve deeper, go farther.
And above that cave, I carved the word TRUTH deep into the sand.
Because I want to find my truth. I want to know who I am, and what I need to do, and what I have to do to get where I’m going.
That’s our job, isn’t it? As children, as teenagers, as adults–we’re taught to tell the truth, speak it, but we’re never taught how to find the truth. How to find our own personal all-encompassing truth and then live it.
We’re never taught to carve TRUTH above a cave and then go inside and see what we find.
But I’ve carved my truth into the sand and I’m going to go inside the cave.