The River

Drip. Drip, Drip.

Rain dangles from heavy branches of a tree to be released into the river below.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Tiny droplets, consumed by a constantly moving fluid being, always heading in the same direction. As they fall into its eddy, reunited with the Source, droplets get carried away on the rhythmic currents. Clouds overhead have broken apart, to reveal sunbeams casting sparkling glares on the water’s serene surface. Deer shake themselves and drink from the cool river, hooves sliding on a muddy bank. Taking the next step closer to their salvation, murky liquid swirls around in the same way a person might stir cream into a cup of coffee. The constant babbling against stones sings through the forest. Steady wings cut through the air.

Whoosh, whoosh, talons extend….

The babbling brook explodes in a flurry of splashes and struggle as the Eagle claims his prize. The fish fights to return to its life in the river, but the Eagle is strong and wings carry them both back to the heights. The Eagle shall live another day. The fish will never know the silky water again.

Ferns unfold near a sandy bank. Summoned by the power of the sun and the fresh rainfall, they unfurl their leaves, stretching, reaching with leaf and root for the water of the river and the water that just fell from the sky. Life giving and uplifting. The forest floor is teeming with life, from the underground worm, to the tender grasses, to each frond and petal of late summer wildflowers, all sustained from the water that surrounds it on all sides.

The river is both giver and taker of life. The world turns arounds within its eddies where minnows shelter from the current. The Universe is reflected within its rippling undulation. The world is a mirror of this perfect creator/destroyer. Without it, life would cease to exist. The forest would shrivel in its absence. There would be no grounding and unifying force to maintain the stability of life. Boulders and misshapen rocks create a symphony of sound and musical clamor as the river glides over a natural crossing. This symphony is accompanied by tumbling pebbles that loosen their grip in a strong rush. Tumbling away, even the stones come alive in this weightless wonderland. Boots clash through the water, dislodging a few pebbles to carry off in the undertow. Crossing the river to a flat, grassy meadow, a man heaves his pack from his back.

He hadn’t seen the deer come to drink.

He hadn’t seen the water drip from the tree.

He hadn’t seen the Eagle hunting fish just upriver.

As he sat down on the grass to catch his breath, he hadn’t noticed the bear approaching from the forest behind him.

He removed his hat and leaned forward to splash his sweat away with the frigid water, indulging himself to relax into its coolness. He came to explore, to escape and to live fully. The forest was the womb of his masculinity, allowing him to behave savagely and vulnerably in a safe environment. He watched minnows scurry from an algae covered overhang just under the rippling surface of the melodic stream. He listened to it’s music, closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Another deep breath. Behind him, he could hear another breath exhale raising the hair on his skin. Turning, the man stood on his feet instinctively, sensing danger. The bear, becoming startled at the quick action, rose to meet the man on two legs, looming over him ominously. The bear ahead and the river to his back, the man just stood still and breathed. Eyes meeting death masked as an emissary in a fur coat. The river paid no attention to their confrontation. It continued to sing over pebbles and take in the dripping of trees and to nourish the world. Whatever may pass between the two, the river would do nothing. It’s neutrality requires nothing. The river will remain.