All along the west coast of N. America, jetty platforms are lifted from the floating docks in the winter months, leaving the vertical pilings standing in the ocean. Tall, still and constant against rolling waves and shifting tides they stand out in stark contrast to the drifting clouds and constantly changing weather patterns. Perfectly vertical and reaching ever heavenward, their solid, smooth structure distinctly contrasts the giant weathered driftwood trees strewn all along the Puget Sound shoreline.
Evocative of ancient standing stones, these structures remind me of Silent Sentinels, constantly standing guard, watching the horizon. I see them as metaphors for the constant observer in us all: that still, silent, watchful guardian of the soul, reassuringly constant in impeccable intention.
All around lie scattered, battered, fallen remains of once-majestic trees. Now eroded, polished and worn by storms and a constant ebb and flow of changing tides, they lie like broken dreams and shattered promises, their gnarly, twisted limbs still reaching out in unfulfilled desire. And yet these man-made Silent Sentinels stand close by, still strong and firmly rooted beneath the rolling waves, drawing our attention ever upward and onward into the intense sunburst burning through the last few drifting storm clouds, casting brilliant, effervescent reflections throughout the ocean and reminding us of our indomitable hope and everlasting faith.
