The River
Eternal, yet fleeting,
unchanged and ever-changing.
The waters bounce and
bumble over rocks
and stumble and tumble over waterfalls.
But mostly it serenely
flows by over the depths.
But the thing is,
from one instant to the next,
the river is continually evolving.
The H2O particles
going by this instant
are not the ones I will see in the
next nano-second,
or the next
or the next.
The river will never be
the same.
This riverbed was
created eons ago
(epochs ago? I’m a
bit fuzzy on my geological time).
Created by glaciers or
floods or God’s great design.
At least the riverbed,
or the path if you will,
is unchanging.
Look at any map from a
hundred years ago.
It’s right there!
My river is right there
on the map
and right here at my feet.
Right where it has
always been.
Ah, but naysayers will
say,
Look at the oxbow of
some rivers.
That’s where some river
either
got pissy at having to drive the same commute every day,
or perhaps the water wanted to frolic and play in the field
like
Ferdinand the Bull. But, I
digress.
I’m kind of fuzzy, too,
on why the river didn’t
just
pull itself together and get back on track.
But apparently
sometimes it just can’t,
and thus we have oxbows.
Personally, I think the
fish are kinda
jazzed about them, the
oxbows, I mean.
They don’t have to just
swim
up or down the river…
they can swim a racetrack
if they want to.
What kid did not love
crawling around in
crazy circles if they were lucky enough
to grow up in a house with connecting rooms?
We had such a house
when my girls were babies.
We called it the Circus
Maximus, and it was stupid fun.
Even our dog, Callie,
would romp along the C.M.
as we crawled and
chased each other.
Sometimes he, being a Great Dane and all,
would knock over the littlest one, but still. . .
crazy fun.
Back to the fish, see
why I think they are kinda jazzed about it?
And just think, Dory
(you know, from Finding Nemo)
would get back home with every completed swim
around the Circus
Maximus.
Just outside my door,
the river is serene,
then tumbling,
then bouncing
and bumbling
all within a very short
distance.
The water flows by
constantly,
but it is not a constant.
Each drop of water is
very fleeting,
never to pass this way again.
Ok, I know the loop
thing of
evaporation and clouds and then rain--
Nature’s Circus
Maximus.
So maybe that raindrop
has been here, after all.
It is both ancient and
new.
A dear friend has a
saying, “both-and.”
It took me years to get
it.
“Both-and” instead of
win-lose,
either-or,
us-them.
A way of looking at
life with all of its contradictions.
Straight ahead or swim
the racetrack awhile.
My kids tease me
sometimes,
Ok, land the plane.
Like, get to the point.
I don’t know the point
except
that these words needed
to
bumble
and
stumble
their way out.
Walking along the
river, I feel a great need
to express my joy from having
this beautiful river for a
neighbor.
I feel a tug to ponder
it as both
fleeting and timeless.
To ponder my love for
the water as a
constant, but ever-changing.
Same as the object of
my affection.
Both-and.
Eternal and fleeting.
Contradictions and constants.
The River. Life. Me.