Silent Currents
Turns out you can’t retire from chaos…but you can always snap another fish.
On November 28, 2024 we wandered into the Seattle Aquarium, Mo and I clutching our cell phones like treasure hunters…every shimmering stingray and curious sea anemone felt brand new, alive with secrets no one had ever captured before…our screens glowed in a joyful frenzy as if the world might slip away if we blinked.
Seven months later we find ourselves tangled in unexpected chaos…jobs shifted or vanished, the question of whether I should retire hovers over dinner conversations, and my mountain bike crashes have become a stubborn reminder of my age…I even joke that if I end up in the hospital at this stage I might never come home, though in truth it’s fear speaking louder than fact.
Yet in the midst of confusion I remember those glowing tanks and the way time slowed inside that cathedral of glass…each photo a beacon against the swirl of uncertainty…sharing them reminds me that beauty persists, that memory can anchor hope when everything else feels adrift.
And so I keep tapping, not just for friends or followers, but for myself on days when life feels too loud…because sometimes gratitude is as simple as revisiting a still moment beneath the waves.
Note on tech: I used Sora to clean up glare and reflections in my tank shots, and I asked ChatGPT to help craft the story and biline.