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Where the Tides Hide Their Memory
Where the Tides Hide Their Memory
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xigekeys
46 posts
Jul 29, 2025
11:16 PM
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Photograph this.
You are position barefoot at the edge of the ocean. The air is major with salt, the sky painted in bruised purples and firelight from the desperate sun. The dunes race forward, styling and breaking at the feet, before falling calmly back into the depths.
But this isn't just water pressing you.
Because every tide… bears memory.
The exact same tide that brushes against your ankles today once taken over sides you'll never know. It hidden neglected cities, cooled lava as it poured from newborn volcanoes, and drowned forests that endured before people actually imagined walking upright. It moved the ashes of fires that burned out one thousand decades ago. It has held the bones of sailors who faded into the night, their comments swallowed by wind and water.
And today it details you.
The hold requires pieces of the world with it each time it retreats — grains of sand from hills that fell way back when, covers that when sheltered lives smaller than a fingernail, parts of stone and glass used clean from centuries of tumbling. Where do they're going? To the areas we cannot see. In to trenches deeper than Everest is tall, into dark canyons where mild has never handled, in to currents that range the world like arteries.
The tide covers everything it gathers, burying the world's memories in a stop too substantial for us to break.
We inform ourselves we understand it. We information its habits, build walls and harbors to fight it, title the hours when it will increase and fall. However the hold doesn't worry about our measurements. It hasn't belonged to us. It listens and then the moon.
That soft cat in the sky, distant and untouchable, draws at the oceans every time of each day. The water stretches toward it, growing to meet its unseen hand. And once the moon converts away, the water comes back. That quiet tug-of-war has shaped the world for billions of years. Actually the deepest seas are connected to anything beyond themselves.
The tide is changing.
It's creeping farther inland now. Glaciers are melting in to their depths, warming seas are swelling their body, and shorelines are vanishing item by piece. Islands we once believed timeless already are gone, paid off to nothing but titles on previous maps.
And here's the facts a lot of people do not want to face: the tide will not end for us.
We contact it disaster. The tide calls it nothing at all. It simply remains, because it generally has, taking and offering, sketching and erasing. It has deleted entire continents before. It is going to do therefore again.
Can you envision the future?
The water rolls over the cities we built. Highways vanish under the waves, their asphalt cracked and damaged like previous bone. Towers fall into the surf, turning into reefs wherever fish drift through silent glass halls. Monuments topple, smashed and dispersed till they're indistinguishable from the stones of the seabed. Entire civilizations are paid off to parts, carried away by currents therefore powerful we will never move against them.
And when it occurs, the tide won't roar. It will not rage. It won't mourn.
It will just remember.
Since that's what the wave does. It is the planet's memory. Every life, every surprise, every reduction is flattened into their depths and carried forward. The tide has observed entire sides rise and fall. It knows things number human language could ever hold.
But the wave is not only a thief. It is a sculptor.
It offers living to the shore. It provides nutritional elements to estuaries and marshlands where new creatures are born. It styles the edges of the earth, removing sharp rocks in to delicate rocks, remaking shores with every breath. Without the hold, the planet's pulse could falter. Oceans might stagnate. Coastlines would wither.
Perhaps that's why we're drawn to it.
We head to the water's edge without always understanding why. Kids chase the retreating dunes, joking, then shriek when it rushes back toward them. Adults remain at the shoreline for hours, hypnotized by the rhythm, allowing the sound of the lives slip away. There's anything eternal in the tide's air — something that calls to the part of us that recalls where we got from.
Since we originated in the water once.
The tide moved living onto the land. It cradled the initial sensitive animals that dared to get from the shallows. And possibly that's why we feel therefore little ranking before it now — maybe not because it will take everything from us, but since in a few strong, unspoken way, we all know it offered us everything first.
Stay there long enough, and you'll start to spot the details. The calm whip at your ankles since it draws away. The hiss of bubbles collapsing in the foam. The faint, very nearly individual sigh because it exhales onto the sand.
If you hear strongly, you may hear the wave telling you a truth:
“Nothing you know is permanent.
But nothing is truly missing, either.”
One day, the hold can roll around the entire world as though we were never here. The titles of our towns, the boundaries we struggled wars to guard, the monuments we created to overcome time — everything is going to be taken out, softened, and moved to the deep.
And yet… there's an odd comfort in that.
As the wave tells us that individuals are element of anything larger than ourselves. Something that does not require us, but holds all of us the same. Every thing we do, everything we construct, every air we get becomes element of their memory. The wave keeps it, actually whenever we are gone.
You'll never know all that it carries. None of us will.
But the next time you're at the beach, stop. Feel the draw at your feet. Watch the waves bring lines in the sand, then eliminate them without hesitation. Understand that exactly the same wave handled lives you may never match and may touch lives Planet following yours.
It does not subject in the event that you forget.
The tide won't.
The tides won't inform us their secrets.
But if you are calm enough, you could feel them in your bones.
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