Holding me spellbound is the embrace of nature.
Rocks scatter and shape the banks of the river, whose rushing water plays like laughter, muffling all sound of the world in hectic pace.
Tumbling water is a beautiful teacher, with notes of what it means to flow, lessons in yielding to obstacles that impede movement and purpose.
Possessing grace of power it easily forges a new path, without concern that it has altered course. The new direction, the new way, allows it to continue on.
Cool air rises above the commotion of change, bathing my being with clean rejuvenation. I take long, deep breaths to load my lungs with freshness, my body with exhilaration.
Lifting my chin to face the sun while balancing on slick stones, the water edges nearer to my feet. I stoop to touch it and hold the coldness in my hand, fingers tingling. Both hands in, splashing the water on my face and cooling my cheeks.
I smile and stand with pause, the water is alive and shares with me its vitality, born of the elements and carried from infant streams high atop mountains. Humble beginnings grow and widen to a broader perspective.
This water knows only one way, the way forward. Yet from the rushes, small pools form among quiet coves, where water takes time to slow and rest.
My reflection is still, protected from waves that disturb the peace. No depth of thought, only solace.
From here, zen water gathers strength and momentum, to reemerge with vigor joining the river once more.
Squinting, gazing downstream, I see life continue on, dancing around rocks and skipping over sunken branches until the way forward fades and I no longer see what lies ahead, now trusting that where it goes I will find myself there.
