In the middle of a mighty ocean was an island, with strong tall cliffs that have long held firm against the relentless waves crashing against its shore. Other islands nearby had long succumbed to the waters surrounding them, slowly pulled under the surface, to be seen no more. This one island remained in defiance to her beauty and power.
You might imagine that this great sea could destroy the island at any time. If she drew together all of her might— all of her great ocean currents, all of her storms— she could conquer this lone opponent as a sandcastle in a typhoon.
The ocean, for whatever reason however, contents herself to challenge the island one wave and one tidal cycle at a time. You further might imagine this to involve a stalemate with neither making headway, but you would be mistaken. Occasionally a bit of the cliff would collapse into the ocean. The pile of rubble might even increase the area of the island momentarily and lengthen its shoreline. It seems, briefly, that the island is winning. But the ocean patiently picks up each bit within her reach and slowly draws each into her depths. Time will come when the last bit of stone peaking above the surface will be worn down, invisible to any nearby onlooker.
The slow battle rages on and on. Day after day, Year after year. Century after century. If you were able to observe this contest for millennia, you might assume that the ocean hates that island… that this battle is driven by anger. But, again, you would be gravely mistaken..
The ocean cares for that island like no other. Her patience, her perseverance, with this defiant pebble in the midst of her infinite domain is her testimony to patient love.
“There is scarcely any passion without struggle.” -Albert Camus