The Ripple Rock

I am in Traverse City, Michigan all week with a dear friend and colleague as we do some grant-funded work together (I am grateful for every part of this sentence). Last night, we drove the length of the Old Mission Peninsula, which has spectacular views of Lake Michigan, wineries, and cherry trees. It concludes with a lighthouse and a beach. Our time together felt magical as we took in that scenery, listened to music, and felt the wind move through our rolled-down windows.

The best part, undoubtedly, was our time at the beach just beyond the lighthouse. The water was pristine with much smaller waves, tempered by the land that surrounds the bay. Up close, the water was so clear. Casting our gaze outward, there was a full vision of vibrant blue as the lake met the horizon of the sky. I ventured fully into the water, which was surprisingly warm, and I could walk out far because the water was so shallow.

Later, I took a walk along the shore of the beach, and when I did, a large rock in the water caught my attention. I was drawn to it because it was, at once, a mixture of something stationary and something dynamic. The gentle waves rolled over it continually and initiated ripples in every direction.

I thought about how this happens every moment of every day. The ripple rock does nothing. It’s still and stationary. But its presence makes this happen.

Often, people have impact by being themselves steadily — not always through their doing, and certainly not through their over-doing — but by being who they are uniquely, grounded, particular, and present.

–Renee Roederer