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Monday, Oct. 18, 2004 / 9:17 p.m. ~Yet Another River Riding Analogy~ My own conundrum is not having enough of a life of my own not to get caught up completely in the life of another. I really need to find my way back. I see me as floating on a river, and I think I've used this analogy before. Perhaps I've eddied out before, and it was a fine bank upon which to rest, the sounds were all soothing, the water calm, the heat soaked rocks warming to a cold and tired body. I went back in, I rejoined the flow and it took me farther down the river, so I went with it, I went where it took me, but somehow I never got back to where I'd been, the rocks where I'd lain to warm myself, the birds nesting there, the sounds of them, the bullfrogs just beyond the reeds. I wanted to get back there, but I was consumed with rapids up ahead, and the negotiating there, all focused on the sudden survival instinct, preserving myself whilst being wholly involved in something so far beyond me I knew I had no control. Nearly falling over and in, swept up in it, but regaining control, never out of it, never completely losing it. And thinking all along of the calm and the warmth and the lulling sounds, smells, the aroma of that other place, the taste of the air there, the quiet of the sun beating down on me as I lay there, tired, spent, resting, rejuvenating, always only wanting to get back to that place, that place where it was just me and all of that. I was one with it, and it was my home in those moments, so certain, so welcoming, a respite from what lay ahead, and no way to get back now. Now thinking there has to be another like it, different, but like it, similar in influence and perception, but never quite the same. It's retreating, it's backwards movement that feels more like sidestepping, and yet it's the same preservation of self, and it's the same release of energy after fighting the elements, and surviving them and respecting them. Taking the time to find myself again after nearly losing me. Righting myself and balancing out again, pausing, reflecting, sun on my body, warm rock below, sounds of birds along the bank, and insects, frogs, nothing but the air and its stillness. Soothing calm. This is the analogy, for I've lived it, I've been there, I know what I'm writing about, I know what it feels like, I can smell it, I can taste it, I can hear those sounds all around me, and I can see movement along the riverbanks, touch the earth beneath me, trail a hand in the water along the way. I can see the swirl of the eddy up ahead, and I know I want to pull over to rest, to recoup, to stop, to get out and stop, and warm my body, rest, feel the sun. See the leaves as they begin to turn and fall to the ground, and sounds are different now, the light is softer, it's at an angle now, a steep one, the sun never directly overhead, darkness falling earlier, days too short, never enough time. I'm backing away from the flow of the river now, as I can hear the rapids up ahead, and I see this place, this place on the bank that welcomes me, that beckons me to be in it, to stay and cozy up a while. I'll take it, I'll take refuge here. Slow and calm and warm and filled with life and reverberation of sound and light. Sparkles of sunlight on water like jewels reflecting. Only me. I'm the only one here, and everything I feel with all my senses is mine alone, secrets lying with me. Cost of the War in Iraq
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