A breakwater is not a beautiful sculpture or structure; it is merely a functional one, ignoble stone structures with no aesthetics to command anybody's approval, merely fulfilling its function of guarding the coast against being eaten away by the sea. The breakwater - stalwart, isolated -the solitary line of defence against the wind and the waves and all the destructive power of the unleashed elements, sea pitting its strength against the land.
What solitary things breakwaters are. Alone, and doing the thankless unglamorous task of standing guard over land, protecting it from the sea. People speak admiringly of the great and the beautiful structures - the unparalleled Great Wall of China, the dazzling tombs of Egypt, the quixotic Tower of Pisa. But nobody speaks of the functional, plain, clumsy breakwater. Because it is neither great or seductive or exciting; it just does what it's built to do.
Not too long ago, I had a dream, and the image of a breakwater arose in my mind, uninvoked. I have run out of words to describe it, but to express it baldly, the breakwater, though small, was holding at bay the terribly destructive power of waves that threaten to engulf the land hiding behind the stone structure; the winds were strong and aroused the waves to great fury, but the breakwater stood its ground, undaunted and indomitable. A puny man-made structure made out stone, against the great wild elements. It seemed like an unfair fight, but when the wind and the waves had done its worst and subsided in its fury, the diminutive structure still stood, unyielded.
I was astonished at the hardiness of this crumbling structure, but I realised that although on the verge of collapse, after having received such a battering, the stones almost disintegrating, but I knew that the strength of the structure lay not only in its tip which lay above the sand, but in its deep-rooted foundations in the sand. And no matter how punishing the assaults and buffeting, the little structure can withstand them all.
I woke up with a question ringing in my ears, "Is that breakwater, you?". I was afraid, perhaps "afraid" is not a good word, but I felt a sense of wonderment in my dread. Being like a breakwater, requires a strength, a toughness, a fastness; the thought almost terrifies me as I think about the super human kind of capacity it would take for a person to be able to stand resolute, faithful and unwavering in the destructiveness of the life and the world that we know. The breakwater is the sole protection of the weak and the unable and the fragile. Maybe I am what I am, and I am strong-willed and physically strong, and there is a reason why I need to be strong, because the weak needs a breakwater to fend off the worse of the elements.
Maybe. I am so afraid of this "maybe".
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