A river has cut through me for so long now. I’ve let the flow define me. Sure I’ve created places where I forced a bend or tightened down the width; but all the while, it still cut through the landscape of my life and carved lines in my being I never planned to see.
Sometimes the flow comes fast at me, flooding over me, ignoring all boundaries and banks in an attempt to wash through and clear away silt for something new. Shards of the past, moments way upstream are suddenly wedged into the ribs of my being and I can’t ignore what has been loosened from long ago.
I’ve always riffled through my life, moving quickly while expressing a certain sense of control. I prefer the slow meandering bends; the vast calm moving forward with an ease that rambles over large stones while magnifying their presence with smooth ripples.