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Growth is not the dramatic rise and fall of the ocean’s majestic waves, but the stones swept up by the waves. Gradually, almost invisibly, they are polished into smooth, natural beauties. A boy playing in the sand will pick up the smooth stone and present it to his father delightedly, utterly unaware of the hours, days, and years, the seasons of rhythmic, repetitive crashing waves that transformed a dull rock, once rough around the edges, into the treasure he haphazardly retrieves today.
Change is inevitable; growth is not. The ocean brings out the best of the rocks over time. The cliffs on the edge of the sea erode over time. Our waves are not so elusive as the ocean’s. Our repetitive thoughts, crashing habitually, will grow us or corrode us.