What a Pencil and the Ocean Taught Me About Life

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve loved writing with a pencil. Not just any pencil—mechanical pencils were always my favorite. And while some people choose 0.5 mm or 0.9 mm leads, I’ve always preferred 0.7 mm. Right in the middle. Not too fine, not too bold. Just balanced.

What I’ve always loved most about pencils is the freedom they give you. You can erase. You can rewrite. You can start over as many times as you need until it feels right. A pencil is a simple reminder that mistakes aren’t permanent and neither is the story we tell ourselves about who we are. We can always create again from scratch.

This same lesson shows up for me at the beach. Just like pencils, the waves clearing the shore remind me of the change, freedom to adapt and wisdom of not resisting. I love writing my name on the sand and watching the waves wash it away. At first glance, it might seem meaningless or arrogant. Why write your name to act as you own the beach or something that won’t last more than a few minutes? But for me, it’s a reminder not to take myself too seriously.

Waves erasing what I write show me that everything in life is temporary –emotions, achievements, failure, joy, sadness. Both the ocean and pencil teach the same truth: nothing is fixed forever. Narratives can be rewritten. The ending of a chapter can change. We can always restart. Holding too tightly to one version of ourselves only creates stress and resistance.

Life feels lighter when we let ourselves change and adapt.

This year, I tried something new for my birthday. Instead of tracing my name on the sand, this time I wrote the number of the passing age on the sand. I watched the waves erasing an entire age. Another set of 365 days slipped into the past —yet its lessons and memories stay with me.

There’s even a Turkish phrase for impermanence: “suya yazmak,” which means “writing on water.” It’s usually said about something temporary. But maybe that’s the point. Not everything we create has to last forever. Sometimes the freedom to erase, rewrite, or let go is exactly what we need.

When we embrace impermanence, we stop carrying the weight of the past. We learn to flow with change, instead of fighting it. And in that flow, we find peace.

Next time you hold a pencil or walk by the ocean, ask yourself: What story am I ready to rewrite today?