The Way of the Water

I am conflicted and torn.  I’m torn between knowing what it means to live in the moment and knowing when something is worth waiting for.  I am torn between being present to the now and holding space for what I truly desire to manifest in my life.  I am torn between long term happiness and momentary satisfaction, gratification in this present moment.

I didn’t think this would be easy.  I don’t know how I could.   To walk away from the ease of convenient half-love and hold out hope for future whole love, complete love, pure love.  The tension is inherent.  How could it not be?  How can I be in the midst of it all? What does it mean to just be here, to just sit in the tension?  Have I even considered sitting with the tension an option?  Is choosing doing?  Isn’t every action and non-action a choice of some kind?

At times I feel like my heart is fickle.  It betrays me in the presence of the sincerest offer of the incomplete.  It is tantalized by the invitation to settle.  Exposed is its longing to be loved, to be held, to be close, to be connected, to be respected, to be delighted in.  Concealed are the answers it wants to questions the mind parades in front of it, taunting it.  Can you do this?  Can you really do this?  Can you wait?  Is it worth waiting for?  Is it worth waiting for the uncertainty when the certain half-assed alternative bangs at the door, throwing itself at your feet?  Water flows downstream, doesn’t it?  It finds the path of least resistance?  Be the water.

What would the water do?  It returns to its Source, ultimately, I am told.  It flows through life taking each twist and turn as it comes.  It doesn’t stop.  It keeps moving and accomplishes its work as it passes along its way.  It doesn’t think about the next move, the next twist, the next turn.  It responds smoothly, easily, gently and quietly to every obstacle it encounters.  It transcends each one – not in triumph, but in gentle, fluid, instant adjustments to what it finds along its path.  And when it’s divided, it seeks its own and is quickly reunified just beyond what caused the separation.  It flows from height to depth, only to ascend again.  Only to ascend again.  To ascend again and begin its journey along its next way.

Can I learn from the water?  Can I flow without resistance?  Can I allow the way to unfold before me without creating my own obstacles?  Can I know the course, know the desired end and not be unsettled by the means which takes me there?  Can I be present to all I feel in the descent  without obstructing it, without clinging to the obstacle along the way for momentary half-safety?  Does the heart know the way of the water? Does the heart know the way?

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6 thoughts on “The Way of the Water

  1. Is what you want not worthy if its “too” temporary? Because everything is temporary; the trick is not just to enjoy what you have, but to enjoy it for however long you have it. If a short-term love can nourish you and you can flow with it, that can be valuable. But I can see where “short-term” may not mean “I love you…for now,” but “I love you less than capacity because I’m distracted, keeping an eye out for whoever’s got next.”

    Water is neither gentle nor tame; she appears so because she makes what she does look easy. Water bides her time; she wears away rock. Water also makes her own path. I am picturing falls, floods, rapids. Water breaks through ice and pushes everything forward in the rush to make, not greet, spring.

    • Everything is temporary. Nothing is permanent. That’s a good reminder. But I think the answer to your question is that the “I love you … for now” is really too short of a time-frame. It’s actually more like, “I love you… tonight, and maybe next Tuesday too.” I’m really over-simplifying that, but it’s not that the offer isn’t for forever that makes it inadequate. It’s just that it’s not what I want at this point in my life, no matter how much of a void it might fill in the moment.

      I love that you present another image of water. I was seeing a mountain stream formed from melting snow. I certainly thought about rapids while I was writing but the water cycle, I think, was the bigger picture.

    • Welcome, Jen. Thank you for reading and thanks for your lovely comments. Please feel welcome commenting her anytime and I’m on my way to check out your blog as well.

  2. This is very well written. It seems almost rhetorical because these are the questions we all face. Do I really live for the moment and all it entails? Or, do I try to conform to something that will not make me as wholly satisfied, but seems to be expected or easy? I do believe the heart does truly know the way – it feels what comes naturally.

  3. I think that your reluctance to grab what is offered now says it all. True, everything, including us, is temporary, but that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t attempt to make the very most of the time and opportunities we are given. In fact, the very brevity of life makes that mandatory, not settling for less than we really want and remaining optimistic that what we do will in fact come to us if we remain open to it. For something to flow into our life, there has to be a vacancy.

    You are a marvelous, talented, good and deep person, Lex. Don’t settle for the almost-dream out of loneliness. We’ve all done so at times because of denial, but you are aware of what you do and don’t want, so hang onto the real dream until it becomes reality. And it will. I just don’t know exactly when, but hope it’s soon.

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