2015-06-01 - 3:01 p.m.
I was standing in the middle of a tributary river, about five o'clock. The water was ankle deep and warm. I remember thinking, "I should lose all fear...there is nothing to fear, nothing to be afraid of, really."
The stream was rocky and hard to navigate. I moved to an area of dappled sunlight, the water burbling merrily at my feet. That area of sunlight looked idyllic...but it was all idyllic. An idyll of heaven, maybe among the idyllic. So beautiful, the sun shining through the trees.
I rocked back as the rocks shifted under my feet, having some fleeting feeling of regret, and it was as if a message was sent to me, just popped into my head. It was urgent, and it did not want me to forget. Like we had talked about a great many things, and that was the one central point that was not to be forgotten.
"Life is a river of love and forgiveness...never forget..."
It was an incredible ride. Right by the cottage there is a canoe livery that goes right through the heart of a National forest. 23 miles of unspoiled river land. No cottages, no buildings, no motor sounds--nothing. Nothing but life. LIFE.
Deer ran away from the waters edge as we silently cruised thorough the forest. And I cannot forget this woodcock that sounded his mating call--it's heavy mating season for the wildlife up here-- so loud, so proud, his call literally echoing throughout the river valley, filling it with his virility. I really hoped he got laid. He owned that moment. It was a perfect moment, his voice touched every living thing moving in the valley.
I could only hope to own a moment so completely, glad to just be a part of it.
In other news, the horse-people have no chill. They busted in when I was on the side of the river, riding their pet, always with their intensity meter stuck on 10...and always wanting to talk about their pet.
I didn't have to deal with them, though, and they fled into the forest after a curious glance in my direction.
I waved and they were gone, left to my idyll.
Life is a river of love and forgiveness.