Sometime in April, 2015
I dreamed again last night. Of what, I shall not share completely – only that it gave me pause to arise from my bed. I will say there were unpleasant, disgruntled people there who seemed only to argue and find fault. And there was someone there that I loved who seemed to dissipate in my arms. It left me feeling – well, empty and a bit sad for everyone.
Then I opened my front door to put out some corn for my Raven friends (and the usual entourage of excited squirrels, fat pink doves, bustling wrens and assorted menagerie of other creatures) and I heard rushing water – gushing, really (there was heavy rain last night). The sound excited me and my heart did a little flip like a child doing a somersault on the first day of school vacation.
“Has it washed out roads? My driveway?”, first thoughts. These thoughts being more gleeful than fearful. “How odd.” I thought, “Shouldn’t I be worried?” But I wasn’t. Instead, I felt drawn to the sound – longing to be near to it – that wild rushing sound of natural abandon – freedom unbridled.
So I wandered out the door and toward that sound, like a hungry bee to a bloom. Yep. even before my comfort-cup of coffee.
Oh! (What expletives can one use other than, “Oh my God – Goddess – or Holy Crap”? How about simply, “ Wow!” Although that hardly covers it.) It was lovely and invigorating– the raging creek and bulging pond.. This place was alive and singing – the very ground, hummed beneath my feet – one could almost hear the buds, shoots and roots, yawning and creaking – reaching out for life. The air felt clean and cool as it passed through my nose and lungs, like tiny, shiny fingers massaging my innards. This place was in her glory, as if thumbing her nose at those who would have her harnessed and submissive.
Had the poisonous residues abated? Been washed away like an old bit of trash, over the stones and down the raging creeks? I hope so. I choose to believe so.
My joy had been restored by something as simple as water. And my day was saved by the land.