keep your eyes on her horizon

the horizon: it’s that line where the sky and the earth appear to meet. and for some reason, it has always fascinated me. for pilots and sailors, the horizon is a guide; for astronomers, the horizon is the zero point; for artists, the horizon is a perspective reference. for me, the horizon is a source of endless wonder.

i think my fascination with the horizon comes from my love affair with the ocean. walking along the sand and looking out at the sea, it’s impossible *not* to see the horizon — where the water and the sky meet seamlessly in a line that seems to go on forever.

it’s where the sun rises each morning and where the sun slips into darkness each evening. it’s the separation of earth and not earth, sky and not sky. it’s something that we all accept as a truth, as a constant, perhaps even as a reminder that we are a part of something much larger than we can understand.

i think we all have a horizon in our lives. something constant and orienting — a compass of sorts, a true north. i’ve come to the realization that too often in my life i have looked outward for my horizon, to someone, and then when that someone leaves, i am left disoriented and struggling to find my own way. perhaps it’s better to find the horizon within myself, and then when someone else joins me, we can travel together — compasses aligned — to where the sky meets the sea and beyond.


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