Tuesday.
Feels like a lazy Monday. There is a smile on my face.
Another winter is slowly melting away. The icy winds no longer has the power to chill our bones.
When the sun comes out, it reminds of the times when I sat by the river.
As you travel downhill, you can see the winding silver dragon at the foothills, gleaming in the sun. Soon, you can hear the water flowing, rushing to meet the ocean far way.
I walk across the rough gravel and sand to reach the river bank. The sound of the swift flowing water fills the air. It’s the clear spring thaw that is flowing down. The murmurs and eddies what whirl around my feet reminds me of the far way years when my tiny feet first touched the playful streams.
I stare at the bottom of the stream, I can see round rocks amidst the sandy bottom. Each one must have rolled down a million times to be rounded like that.
I dip my handkerchief into the river. Tiny fishes dart past. Life in the fast lane. Moving and growing.
The sun beats down but I don’t mind. It warms my back while my feet dips into the cold water. The tiny rivulets comes in waves and my mind wanders. It meanders through my memories. Happy childhood ones near the river- picnics with family and friends.
Today I’ve come with a lot of baggage, accumulated worries and wrinkled anxieties. My body feels the ebb and flow of the current. I wish away my burdens.
I dip my hand and scoop out the clear liquid. I try to hold it as long as possible. It all drips away eventually, glinting and sparkling in the sunlight. My gloom dissipates and melts away.
The clear mountain feed courses through the rough terrain, cutting through rocks and hills. Tumbling, faltering and weaving its way to finally reach the vast ocean.
I am reminded of this poem:
Fear by Kahlil Gibran
It is said that before entering the sea a river trembles with fear. She looks back at the path she has travelled, from the peaks of the mountains, the long winding road crossing forests and villages. And in front of her, she sees an ocean so vast, that to enter there seems nothing more than to disappear forever. But there is no other way. The river can not go back. Nobody can go back. To go back is impossible in existence. The river needs to take the risk of entering the ocean because only then will fear disappear, because that’s where the river will know it’s not about disappearing into the ocean, but of becoming the ocean.
Why am I so worried? What is it that troubles this life of mine? Isn’t our lives like the river? Ultimately our journey is defined by the struggles and conflicts we face as we also tumble along.
No one is perfect. Each river has to run its own course. So do I.
I wash my face and smile.
-----SA----
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