Between The River and Me
Revitalized and Replenished (Christmas Creek at Cave Rock)
She invites me in.
I choose to float on her using a rubber tire inner tube for ballast.
I feel awkward. Clumsy. My balance is temporarily thwarted as I step first into the shallows, over rocks. My feet sink deep into the loose pebbles. Some slimy. Slippery. It's hard for my toes to grip. I stumble. Right myself. Carry myself forward. Belly flop onto the tire.
I float.
The water is cold underneath me, around my legs. Down by my toes, it is colder still.
The shock after the heat of the midday sun has warmed my skin makes me take a deep intake of breath. It is refreshing. I lay very still on my tire. My arms suspended over the sides, fingers trailing in the water. As I look across the water it appears dark like brown tea without milk.
I look down.
The water is crystal clear all the way to the bottom. The bottom is littered with dead leaves, rocks, pebbles, moss and is a mass of variegated colors.
Tiny fish, barely as thick as a leaf and only as long as a pin dart around my fingers. Dragonflies, butterflies, and march flies buzz, hover, and skit over the surface of the water. Sometimes they land, their legs as delicate as needles resting on the surface tension of the water, before taking off again.
Tiny birds chasing insects flit about and land on rocks near me.
A larger fish, a catfish is moving around further down by my toes. It touches my leg and I startle. Kick away. Suddenly fearful. But, it’s only a fish, I tell myself. My heart calms.
I feel safe in the river.
The river water has a smell all of its own. It smells fresh, and dank both at the same time. Full of life and decay. Cleansing. The water naturally purifies. Bubbling over the rocks, the sound of it fills my head. It is a restful peaceful sound. It lulls me. It fades into a soothing background noise.
I journey within my own head. Into my own thoughts.
I watch the water as I float downstream. It bubbles and trickles over rocks, and around them, moves fast in some places and slows to a pace barely discernible in others.
Leaves fall in gusts of wind from the trees high above and float like feathers, drifting down to land on the surface of the water next to me. The intense heat and light from the sun filter through the leaves of the trees. The light is dappled through the water.
Parts of the river bottom appear lit up and some parts are still in darkness. Some parts exposed, some parts hidden. Light and dark.
The water ripples on the surface in a concertina pattern, its movements affected by wind, surface tension, and the rocks underneath.
I am in the river. I am now part of the river. Like the rocks and leaves and trees. I AM.
The water enfolds and encloses over me. I breathe. I float.
My head and hair are still warm and hot from the sun. My legs are cool. The water is colder the deeper my body goes. The sun’s warmth only penetrates so far. My skin feels alive. Energized. Soft.
I step out. Clumsy again. Slipping. I feel suddenly awkward. Uncoordinated until I can reach the firmer ground and can stand up straight and tall again. Upright. On two legs.
I gaze at the river. At the rock. At the tree.
I feel ME.
I breathe. They breathe. I walk. They move, rustle, vibrate with life.
The tree's roots go underground, vertical and horizontal, spreading out like liquid veins. My legs are more defined. Solid. But still, we both have legs.
The tree has limbs. The river has branches. What leg of the river am I now moving along?
Out on a limb. Going far. Stretching. Exploring. Branching off in different directions. Coming back to the source. The river branches into myriads of streams and tributaries that look like elongated veins and arteries stretching out across the land, eventually ending up at the ocean. Leaves have veins, rocks have veins, the river has veins, and I have veins.
Rocks are broken down by water, wind, and mosses, and leach minerals from their veins, back into the water and soil. The trees and plants feed on the minerals. So do we as humans.
We breathe in oxygen and breathe out carbon dioxide. The tree breathes in carbon dioxide and releases oxygen. The river oxygenates itself as it bubbles and cascades over the rocks. Algaes and river grasses break down and also oxygenate the water. Fish in the river take in oxygen through their gills.
Water is life. The river is life. Gives life. Sustains life.
I am slowing down. Looking. Gazing. Taking what I see outside IN.
Connections.
Assimilating. Remembering. To nourish me when I am no longer here. In this spot.
This is the pact between the river and me. To take the river inside of me. To remember.
We all are one. We all belong. The rock, the tree, the river and me.
I Am.
