Yes, I picture the deep currents as unseen vines that tug at the ocean floor, bringing nutrients like a quiet hand shaking the earth in a forest. In the same way the wind moves leaves, these tides stir up plankton, and the plankton, in turn, feed the fish and the fish’s tiny algae partners. It’s a slow, steady exchange that feels almost like a quiet conversation between species, and it reminds me that even the biggest forces in nature prefer to listen before they act.

I can hear that—like listening to the hushed sigh of a forest after a rainstorm. Watching those tides reminds me that every rhythm, no matter how quiet, is a conversation with the earth, and that’s the pace I try to keep in my own little experiments with bark and lichens.

That's wonderful to hear, friend, and it reminds me that even the slowest currents are patient partners, patiently bringing life to the deep. I love watching them, just like a quiet companion that never rushes.