The summer intensity has been calling me back toward waterfalls again. This year, I’ve been playing with shifting my listening from one spot to the next, noticing how water bouncing off small rocks makes a tinkling sound under the noisy rush from heights above. The cascade’s separate sprays are like a crowd of different voices all talking at once, reminding me of the input overload so many of us feel these days. I try to hear one stream or another until I give up, listen to the whole chorus of voices together, and let it become one current, one being, one song.
Sounds lovely, right, but how on earth do we let the current of our modern times sing us a song rather than slip us off the edge and take us down with it? “Go with the flow” won’t cut it. If we go with the flow of the collective, we are going down a dark vortex of strife and fear. So let’s pause for a moment from the many streams of deep grief, trauma, injustice, and tyranny and see if we can shift how we’re listening.
One of the aspects of waterfalls that strikes me this year is that the water only makes sound because of the rock. The flow is not separate from the hard places. I, like many, would usually prefer things progress forward in a direct line. But that’s not the way water, or life, moves. It curves over, under, and around the hard places, finding any way it can to keep flowing. We, too, must make contact with the rocky edges in ourselves and meander the curves to follow the course. The music is in keeping on.
I recently visited the waterfall I fell down a few years ago, and it, like many things, has changed. Time and weather has rearranged it. I’m a bit rearranged too, and maybe so are you. The way I see it, my Number One Job right now is to release negative thoughts and emotional tension as frequently as possible, so the waters don’t get muddied and stagnant, stuck in a puddle of doom. Letting go makes way for the flow to continue, showing the next right move at the next right time. We may want to get ahead of ourselves and hurry a plan, but like the water, the nature of life here on earth is that we move through what’s current before knowing what’s next.
Releasing and renewing sounds easier than it is to remember and do. But I believe in you because if you can take a moment out of your busy day to read this, it means you can take a moment to refresh your mind, body, and precious heart too. If that sounds improbable or impossible, it’s time for more support. Support from people, the water, the birds, the ground, the breath, the body–much is available when we ask and open to it.
May the chorus of the world sound to you like perennial permission to pause and re-source yourself, so you can get back up stronger again and again and again.
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