Once upon a time, a carefree little wave was coursing through the open sea. The sun was shining overhead, and her surface shimmered with its golden reflections. The sky was clear and blue, with a light breeze and fluffy clouds. The wave bobbed and swooped happily with her friends across the deep, sometimes feeling smooth and sleek, sometimes spouting a white cap of frothy enthusiasm. She noticed some land ahead, mountains and trees and sand and rocks. With delight and curiosity, she began to race towards it, following the larger waves ahead of her. As she neared the shore, she felt herself beginning to swell and grow. Then, as she got closer, suddenly, she could see what was happening to the biggest waves in front. They were crashing into the rocky coast, bursting into foam, and dissipating. She became very alarmed. She called ahead to one of the older waves, “Stop! We have to stop!” The big wave called back, “We can’t, little wave, and why would we want to?” She cried, “Can’t you see what’s happening, what’s going to happen to us?!” The larger wave replied, “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.” The little wave was roaring now, “Fine? Fine?! How can you say that?! We’re going to crash into oblivion!” The mature wave said, gently, just before breaking against the shore, “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve forgotten… you’re not just this wave; you’re the ocean.”

This parable was popularized by its inclusion in Mitch Albom’s inspirational bestseller, Tuesdays With Morrie. But it is much older than that, communicating ancient Vedantic teachings about our illusion of separation. The ego imagines itself distinct and disconnected, but the truth of our being is that each of us is an aspect of the Whole. We are One Self with many individualities, One Mind of many consciousnesses.

That is a powerful idea. And very reassuring when we must confront change and conflict, time and mortality. It’s an invitation to go with the flow, to surrender in faith, to remember that we are far greater than we realize, parts of a capital-B Big Picture. We are not alone. We are connected. We are eternal.

Groovy. AND — at the same time — we’re here to live as if we are, in fact, the waves. The whole gig of being in time and space is to experience fully the reality of THIS — these different minds and hearts, these separate bodies. You as you and me as me, self and other, this and that, then and now.

I read an article in The Atlantic this week, a discussion of philosopher Rebecca Newberger Goldstein’s new book, The Mattering Instinct. She posits that the fundamental drive of existence is to thwart entropy. Entropy is the tendency of any closed system to descend into a helter-skelter, willy-nilly muddle. Life, writes Goldstein, is an act of defiance against this chaos. We live to impose and impart an order, albeit a temporary one, onto the incomprehensible and ultimately unmanageable totality. For human beings, this shows up as a perpetual search for meaning, our desire to matter. She invokes the classic Greek concept of “eudaimonia” — living well, flourishing. This, she argues, has little to do with the modern pursuit of pleasure and happiness, and everything to do with a sense that one’s life matters.

That rings true to me, too. And it seems to fly in the face of the wave-ocean story’s message.

The wave was enjoined to embrace entropy, to become one with Everything. But flourishing as creative individuals with lives of consequence, importance, and meaning seems like it’s all about resisting the chaotic Allness.

Yeah, and here we are. With both things needing to be true at the same time.

The ocean informs the wave and vice versa. This specificity means every universality and vice versa. Each of us creates our togetherness and vice versa. We live from order to chaos and back again, again, and again.

Nietzsche said: “You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.”

I can’t wait to be with you this Sunday, October 11, 10:00am at q-Staff Theatre. With special musical guests, Jared Israel Putnam and Raychael Stine. XO, Drew

©2026 Drew Groves