A Walk In The Water
I took off my shoes near the creek and stepped over old, broken pieces of barbed wire and briars growing into wild rose vines. It was a hard and quick trip down the bank, but then my skin hit the cold, smooth water. It was a reminder that sometimes it takes a little bit of a painful walk to reach ecstasy.
I walked down the sand, dodging slick rocks and moss, and trying not to fall while fumbling over rushing whitewater. I found a calmer spot further down and sat down on a rock, dangling my feet and watching a baby snake swim by. I’ve gotten used to them now- most are spotted northern water snakes. They’re not poisonous, and they’re focused on something else besides me. Watching what happens in a wild creek is incredible. Nothing’s under control or managed by rangers like in public national parks, so you’re more vulnerable to predators and the raw essence of the land.
Sitting by that creek and watching her flow without interruption seemed to unlock a mental gateway. After about an hour of letting myself melt into the energy of it all, I began to realize it was not just a creek; it was an entity. She was a living tentacle of a much bigger organism, and just because I couldn’t see where she began or ended didn’t mean there wasn’t something much more intense connected to her. There was a life in that, and it stirred up the desire to nurture and respect it. I depended on her to keep me alive, and she depended on me to keep her alive, too. We were suddenly bonded in survival, and I was a tiny creature resting on the back of this giant water creature that spanned into oceans and underground aqueducts. I rose and walked down the bed of sand in the water. It felt like I was walking on skin, conscious of how this pure, clean water was responding to my body. It wasn’t all about me this time, and how cold it was on my skin. I was actually wondering if this living water could detect me too... along with those little snakes and creatures hiding in the leaves beside me.
This transcended into a thought that all of us; humans, trees, insects and everything else, were tied together in an eternal dance to live, love and die. We were made of the same chemicals and stardust, and we’d all eventually return to it. And as I stayed in that water, my mind seemed to start opening up like a flower. There was a language here that didn’t need words. We were all composed of the same fire and creative force, and we could detect each other through it. This might be why we can feel presence and emotion over distances and through phone lines. It might be why when we send out a strong enough desire, that little bluebird we haven’t seen in years suddenly appears and looks us dead in the eye for a few fleeting seconds. This is the closest I’ve ever come to something entirely pure and untouched by confusion.
I walked down the sand, dodging slick rocks and moss, and trying not to fall while fumbling over rushing whitewater. I found a calmer spot further down and sat down on a rock, dangling my feet and watching a baby snake swim by. I’ve gotten used to them now- most are spotted northern water snakes. They’re not poisonous, and they’re focused on something else besides me. Watching what happens in a wild creek is incredible. Nothing’s under control or managed by rangers like in public national parks, so you’re more vulnerable to predators and the raw essence of the land.
Sitting by that creek and watching her flow without interruption seemed to unlock a mental gateway. After about an hour of letting myself melt into the energy of it all, I began to realize it was not just a creek; it was an entity. She was a living tentacle of a much bigger organism, and just because I couldn’t see where she began or ended didn’t mean there wasn’t something much more intense connected to her. There was a life in that, and it stirred up the desire to nurture and respect it. I depended on her to keep me alive, and she depended on me to keep her alive, too. We were suddenly bonded in survival, and I was a tiny creature resting on the back of this giant water creature that spanned into oceans and underground aqueducts. I rose and walked down the bed of sand in the water. It felt like I was walking on skin, conscious of how this pure, clean water was responding to my body. It wasn’t all about me this time, and how cold it was on my skin. I was actually wondering if this living water could detect me too... along with those little snakes and creatures hiding in the leaves beside me.
This transcended into a thought that all of us; humans, trees, insects and everything else, were tied together in an eternal dance to live, love and die. We were made of the same chemicals and stardust, and we’d all eventually return to it. And as I stayed in that water, my mind seemed to start opening up like a flower. There was a language here that didn’t need words. We were all composed of the same fire and creative force, and we could detect each other through it. This might be why we can feel presence and emotion over distances and through phone lines. It might be why when we send out a strong enough desire, that little bluebird we haven’t seen in years suddenly appears and looks us dead in the eye for a few fleeting seconds. This is the closest I’ve ever come to something entirely pure and untouched by confusion.
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