Even Oceans Need Water Too

Even Oceans Need Water Too

By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

There once was an ancient oceanvast, deep, and generous beyond measure. Its waves welcomed all who came: the fishermen searching for provision, the wanderers seeking reflection in its tide, the broken-hearted who wept along its shores, and the joyful who danced in its shallows. This ocean never asked for anything in return. It just gave salt, fish, rhythm, healing. It gave until its depths began to dry.

You see, no one ever asked the ocean how it felt.

No one wondered if the ocean ever needed a sunrise just for itself. If it needed someone to float on its back and simply whisper, “Thank you.” The world drank from it, sailed across it, pulled from its belly, but never once thought: Even oceans need water too.

I write this not just for the ocean in that story, but for the oceans walking around in flesh those people who are the lifeblood of their families, the encouragers in their communities, the ones who smile while silently drowning. The ones who always seem “so strong” that people forget they’re also human. Maybe that’s you. It’s been me.

There are those of us who carry light like lanterns, even when our own oil is running low. We pour out kindness, affection, wisdom, and forgiveness only to return to empty homes, silent phones, or heavy hearts. We get called “inspirations,” “rocks,” and “angels,” but what happens when the rock cracks? When the angel can’t fly? When the ocean is low on tide?

A wise parable comes to mind:

A well once stood in the middle of a bustling village. Its water was cool, pure, and never seemed to run dry. Travelers from afar would come to drink, villagers would fill their buckets, and children played near it, knowing the well would always be there. But one summer, the rains didn’t come. The sun scorched the earth, and the well’s water slowly sank lower and lower. The villagers grew anxious, some angry, some fearful. Finally, a child whispered to his mother, “But who gives water to the well?”

Let that settle in your spirit: Who gives water to the well?

We live in a world that praises output and rarely considers overflow.

But even the most giving heart needs rest. Even the warmest soul needs warmth. Even oceans need water too.

To all of you who feel like you’re being drained emotionally, spiritually, mentally let me remind you: it is not weakness to need. It is not failure to pause. It is not selfish to receive. The Creator Himself, after six days of creation, rested. If the Infinite took time to be still, surely we who are but sparks of that greatness must honor the same rhythm.

And let me speak plainly to those who love to fish in others’ waters but never return to replenish: kindness isn’t a resource to be mined without gratitude. If someone is constantly there for you, check on them. If someone uplifts you, lift them too.

If someone gives you light, protect their flame. Reciprocity is a sacred thing. When we take and never give, we not only rob others we stunt our own growth.

Spiritual maturity is knowing when to sit by someone’s ocean and simply be present. No fixing. No fishing. Just presence.

Sometimes the greatest gift you can offer someone who always gives… is to simply pour back.

I, Kateb, know what it means to feel like an ocean. I’ve had people draw from my spirit in their storms, and I’ve offered shelter with a bleeding soul. I’ve smiled while silently breaking. But I've learned I must drink too. I must return to the Source. I must let the Divine fill me in the quiet before I’m poured out again.

To you, the ocean, I say: protect your tide. Give, yes but do not forget your own waves. Make room for rest, tenderness, and being held. Let love find you. Let peace wrap itself around you like a blanket on a cold morning. You are not just a place people visit for healing. You are worthy of healing too.

Let this reflection be your reminder: even oceans need water too.