First, take the knife out slowly and intentionally. Secure the wound and the bleeding. Then, learn how to take the knife out of your own hands. Bury the knife in the cold dirt six feet under. Hold a funeral to honor the pain. Plant flowers and make peace. Do this every day until the pain feels like a distant memory. This is how I learn to forgive myself.

The ocean is vast, the birthplace of life, and pure entropy all at once. Every coastline the ocean meets, it looks longingly at the sand. The sand remains calm, gentle yet firm. Such compassion.

One day, as the tide was receding, the ocean was able to mist out to the sand, “How do you do it? The chaos? The Uncertainty?”

The sand responded, “We were born out of the sea, crashing bodies of water, shells, salt, and creatures. We were born out of discord. There is healing and rebirth from pain. There is always a calm that follows the storm, no matter how brief. We know it will pass, and while it is quite unbearable, it bequeaths us new siblings and joys.”

The brine seemed perplexed, and as day turned to night, the sunlight zone of the ocean quieted, and the sand bank’s inhabitants came out of their sand castles and danced to the moon.

The next day, the ocean met the sand once more. This time, the grainy sand had a question for the ocean.

“We sit here contained and in the same place, while you roam continents and seasons. What grounds you in all of your travels, in all of your uncertainty?”

The ocean tide began to rise, and after a brief moment it collided with the sand. “What keeps me grounded is knowing that somewhere, you are always with me. I will always meet your loving gaze, whether it is on your banks or taking pieces of your love with me, mixed in with the salt and the creatures I hold. When you remember that I’ll always love you, you’ll know love.”

The buff sighed at the ocean, and said, “when you remember how beautiful you are, you’ll know that your presence is pure magic.” That day, the sand and the ocean became one, loving one another until the end of days.