The Art of Water

The other day I went down to the riverbank to gather wildflowers,
vines, and dried leaves to accent our sitting room with before autumn
comes along turning the world to gray. I have wanted to get a clip of
oak leaves so I searched the bank for the certain tree. It wasn't too
difficult to spot. The oak that caught my eye was massive even by oak
tree standards. When I got to the base of this silent sentinel of the
river I was first held in awe as I looked up high into the canopy to
see it's crown splattered with sunlight. The tree had grown so large
that there were not any low hanging limbs to get a clip off of and
just standing there in its shadow was intimidating. It would take the
arms length of five people to circle the based of this tree.
This oak has most likely weathered hundreds of years of Mother
Nature's wrath. From ice storms to droughts this oak has seen it all.
But as mighty and powerful as it seemed in all its long years of
experience it had one deadly weakness.
The bottom foot and a half of the oak had no bark on it. Live wood
has been exposed, smoothed and polished by the frequent floods the
river has seen in the past couple of hundred years since irrigation
has taken its toll. Now the base of the oak is soft to the touch and
starting to slowly rot away. Being that it is only a few short feet
from the riverbank the oak may never have the opportunity to heal
itself and grow protective bark over this weakened area. And because
the weakness is in the very foundation of the tree it will likely be
the great oaks greatness that brings it crashing to the ground one
day.
Closer to the bank of the river there are some rather large stones.
Nearly all of them are cracked or split apart completely, another
power of the river in winter. Water has a way of getting into the
smallest of fractures and when nature gives it reason to turn cold it
becomes relentlessly hard and expands with such force that even the
mighty boulder can not withstand the pressure.
Even the very earth that granted life to the oak hundreds of years
ago and played cradle to the boulder for even longer is being cut and
carved by the river. Over the last few thousand years the river has
been mother natures cutting tool to forge this landscape I call home.
The lesson provided in such graphically subtle detail was one that no
nature-loving warrior could deny.
Inexperienced warriors have a habit of being very firey. They like to
rush in on a whim, often without good reason aside from the fact that
their spirit needs the fuel of a good fight to make them feel alive
again. But like any fire, they soon burn out, offering the world
nothing in their legacy but ashes and a path of destruction. And the
path that they forged in all their rage and burning might will soon
be covered up with new life, leaving absolutely nothing of them
behind but darker dirt.
An experienced warrior will seek out the lessons of old Man River and
learn the art of water. It's an art that has two sides, both being of
great wisdom that is older than the oak and the rock together.
The first being that water is the giver of life and it gives life
freely without reason or due. And like life it should be respected
for its many wonders and priceless gifts. Life is not so indifferent
from the river. It never stops and it is never the same day to day.
Events and changes that take place far beyond its banks affect its
flow and all the things it carries with it. And just like the river
we have a habit of following the path of least resistance all the way
to our destiny and death where the banks of life give way and our
soul is released into the great beyond. Sometimes to stay there and
sometimes to find another tributary and path to follow through the
earth once more until ultimately we reach the very end of learning
and growth and become one with the ocean of infinity.
Granted events take place that change our course or put up dams and
obstacles that seem to choke us nearly to death at times. But no
matter what life throws in our way, if we survive it, regardless of
the pain of pushing through it, we keep on flowing. And all that pain
and stress is nothing more than an afterthought, a tale to tell of
just one challenge along the way. You can obsess over it by flowing
through life backwards so that it is the only thing you see or you
can turn around and look at what is coming at you next. Waterfalls
are not so scary when you know exactly where they are. But if your
not looking ahead you're going to miss them and fall flat on your
back.
The second lesson is carved in wood and stone. And the lesson is
simple and warrioristic.
That lesson is: If you tower over me for too long I will strip away
the defenses at your very core, soften you so delicately you never
noticed in all your strength and might, and I will turn your own bulk
and pedestal against you. And when the day comes that your mass alone
brings you down I will have no shame or guilt. I will simply carry
you away to the great beyond and there let you sink to the bottomless
nothing where you will learn what you never took the time to learn.
Hold yourself high for too long and you will find yourself at the
bottom.
If you are a rock, dead set on where you stand, hard and rough to
anything that touches you, I will find your flaws and wash them
clean. I will soften you and polish you into the shining stone that
you are and you will be beautiful to all who look upon you for
strength. And then I will flow around you and continue on my journey.
Yet, should nature give me reason I will turn cold on you. I will
show you that although you think you are hard, I can be harder.
Because it is not in your nature to give at all, I will open your
weaknesses for the entire world to see and you will live out the rest
of time in pieces. But do not be ashamed at this fate. For one day a
wanderer will come along to find you in my wake and they will learn.
Not from your strong unyielding personality but from your flaws.

Angel Snowden -2006