There is so much I want to write and there is no way to make the writing short or light or easy or quiet. My thoughts are like waves rising and falling–in constant motion.

I have an ocean drum. A small one that I want to use and share and bring along.

I hold the drum in my hand and listen as the pellets roll around. A loud noise. A crescendo and decrescendo.

Like my feelings and my thoughts.

I know I am much better because I feel the restless yearning tide rising and reaching towards change.

Why can’t borders be porous? Who do we need borders for?

Why does it take us so long to take action? Why do we remain in inertia?

There is so much happening. There is so much injustice going on.

How can we justify genocide? How can we justify war?

What difference does it make? Someone asks. What difference can I make?

My thoughts rise and fall, like waves.

In my head, I stand on the edge of the shore. I dig my feet in the sand and feel the grains between my toes.

From where we are, what we are doing seems so small.

The ocean is big and wide. Our doing is a drop tinier even than a drop of sand. But if we join all our doings together, all these doings could become the shore.