The River

The mind is a river. The river flows from heart, to mind, to lips. Expressing our essential joy. The mind is a vulnerable place. The waters of our love become prey to rocks. Rocks of thought.

Someone sits at the edge of our river. One may call it, ego, the voice of fear, or simply my name, or the name of my city. Whomever, he sits at the edge of my river, a naïve young boy. Throwing rocks upon the water, to see if they skip.

The rock hits the surface, creating ripples in my river. The rock is a thought.

A rock is thrown, a signal of hunger. The disturbance lasts only a few seconds if I am able to fulfill this basic need. If acted upon, the water calms.

Another rock is thrown, responsibility. If I do not act, more rocks are thrown, sadness, fear, a new wardrobe, another errand, and a new list for tomorrow. Rocks and rocks create waves in the river, disturbing the peace of clear calm water. The waters cannot flow with balance, receding and rushing forth, out of control. I feel I am not in control of my life. I was not in control before, but now I wish for a pair of reigns, whether intellect or power, to reel in the waves. So I can just be.

I act on responsibility, rather than the thoughts I gathered in fear. I no longer need to hold the rocks. I can just be. I accept the rocks that occur, and let them go. I am here. There are less rocks now, few ripples. There is more space in between rocks. More peace, more serenity. In this stillness, the rivers of my love rush forth. The clear aqua blue waters fill with light.