How to Live Like the Tide
How to “Live Like the Tide” should actually be written, “Live Like the Taid.”
Taid is (was) my grandfather.
To be clear, my grandfather’s name wasn’t Taid. His name was Robert David Owen. But, in Wales, Taid means Grandpa. And so, passed on by Welsh tradition, my mom’s father was known as Taid.
Yesterday was eleven years since the day he passed. And, still, eleven years later, the day of his passing still impacts me. It makes me remember to be mindful, present, and grateful. It also makes me sad knowing his loving and contagious spirit is no longer part of this physical world. Put more simply, the little girl inside of me still just misses her Taid.
So, in light of the 2nd of October, I’d like to share with you a little bit about the amazing, wonderful man, father, husband, friend and grandfather that was Taid. I’d like for you to get to know his rare and unique soul, and be inspired to live life the way that he did.
Therefore, as my ode to him, I’d like to inspire you to “Live Like the Taid.” The legend that he was.
Taid, my Grandpa, Robert David Owen, was a rare and unique soul.
He was a student of the world, a teacher of all things, and a mindful, capturer of all moments; however significant or insignificant they may be.
He did not have to do mindful exercises or gratitude journals (although he would have certainly encouraged the healthy habits and pursuit of lifelong growth). He did not need to. He was, innately, in a state of curiosity, wonder, bliss and appreciation. Every single aspect of his life was uniquely him. From the way he cherished the gifts of this earth to the way he relished in magical moments of connection. So rare is such a gift and to him it seemed so ordinary.
Over the span of my life I have spent countless weekends with my moms extended family. So many weekends in fact, that I remember asking my mom, “why do I see my family so much more than other kids my age?” I cannot remember her response. But I am sure it was something along the lines of “because you have such wonderful grandparents.” Even if it wasn’t her response, it’s truly the best explanation.
My Grandma and Taid had a family cabin on Herron Island, a small island in the South Puget Sound that you can only get to by a small, red, 12-car ferry. It wasn’t until I moved to Arizona, Chicago, and Hawaii, that I realized how “not normal” little red ferry boat rides were.
Our trips to the cabin were always full of love, laughter, learning, and (due to the fact that there were two grandparents, four families, and nine grandkids total) a whole lot of chaos.
In order to subdue some of this cabin-chaos, Taid took on the role of a “camp leader.” I don’t know how else to properly describe it. More accurately might be, Youth Teacher for Universal Knowledge. The nine of us grandkids followed him around the way ducklings flock to their mother. Always following him so captivated by his stories. He taught us things and explained things in such fascinating ways, it was like learning in disguise.
This is just how Taid lived. Through wonder, fascination, mindfulness and playfulness.
To better illustrate all that is(was) my Taid, here are a few random and insignificant tales:
Scene one: Need to make a fruit salad for breakfast?
Why not make it a challenge to add as many possible fruit to this fruit salad? Every time you make it, try to beat your previous record.
This is something he not only did for fun, but also for the amazement and appreciation that came from it. Can you imagine eating a fruit salad with 18 different fruit? I mean come on. Did you even know there were that many fruit to add to a fruit salad? This could be a simple chore. Something you cut up while thinking about something else. But Taid made this into a bonding experience, a fun game, and a way of appreciating the abundance of this earth.
Scene two: Want to go swimming in the puget sound?
Why not equip the troops with snorkels and show them the variety of life happening under water? And although that may not sound that unique or special, for anyone who has been to the puget sound, you know it’s no tropical vacation. This isn’t snorkeling in warm, crystal clear water. This is the puget sound. On a cloudy day. The water is cold and dark. The beach rocky and covered in seaweed and barnacles.
Yet, Taid took us out in wetsuits and gear and made it into something fun and fascinating.
Not only that, but Taid scuba dived in the puget sound and picked up rock crab by hand. If you don’t know what rock crabs are, you don’t need to, all you need to know is you could possibly lose a finger to those pinchers.
Scene three: Want to take a trip to Hawaii?
Why not go there for 20+ years straight for weeks/months on end? You think Taid was living life to the fullest in the great Pacific Northwest. Imagine him in paradise.
The flowers, the plants, the birds, the ocean, the ocean life, the reef, the rivers, the waterfalls, the traditions, the history, the ways of life. My grandma and Taid spent a lifetime going on vacation in Hawaii. Most commonly Kauai. For months on end. And although he did know a lot from continuously reading, discovering and asking curiosity sparked questions, he was never a “know-it-all.” If he shared his knowledge, he taught it, and he shared in the excitement of it. He was consistently grateful for such a unique place; it pushed his amazement of the beauty in this world to another level.
And those are just a few, significant but telling, Tales of Taid.
All in all, what I hope you get from this, from these short glimpses into Taids life, is the inspiration to live, laugh and learn. To be here now. Today. In this present moment. To experience life, connection and love. To let yourself relish in the beauty that surrounds you. To get lost in the wonder.
You see, Taid did not just impact those who loved him, and those he loved. He impacted, and will continue to impact, so many more.
Ironically, Taid taught me to Live Like The Tide. By this, I mean, he taught me how the impact we have, no matter how large or small, will continue to ripple on long after we’re gone. And, as the tide changes, and life ebbs and flows, it’s up to us to decide the direction we want our energy to go.