The rain has devastated the river. To my eyes it’s devastation, but I do know in reality it’s natural. It happens here in spring when the river carries the snow melt from the mountains and the rains make it flood.
I see it when I walk here. These woods and trails are on floodplain and river bottom, and this landscape changes with each season. In the years I’ve come here I’ve seen new beaches carved out of old ones that were formerly wide and inviting, now unrecognizable. I’ve come after the rain in the aftermath of trees snapping, their trunks and branches carried down the floodplain, along with anything in their way: rocks and boulders, bushes and smaller trees, debris too from up river I suppose. I’m not sure where it’s from- it might be from China!
Waste doesn’t discriminate.
But people do right? Why is it that nowadays it seems any one can say anything, their own truth, and after an uproar say they misspoke? And that’s okay. Or were tired? Like that Donald Sterling? I’ll pick on him as he’s the “scandal dujour”, plus he won’t stop talking! And it’s been going on a while now, our particular brand of discourse, which involves many people speaking out of their backsides and embracing a new kind of infamy.
What kind of people are we?
Hey, if Oprah wants to buy out Sterling then it’s a big deal.
We’re so inundated with information about everyone and everything and anything at all times. Much more than I need to know anyway. I guess that’s called the twenty-four hour news cycle. Is there anything wrong with opting out from the feed? Unsubscribing? It’s endless. Can I just say “I don’t care?”
But I care about you. And anyone else that has something to say that’s life affirming and who wants to make the world more beautiful.
Yeh I’m sappy! But when I walk the river alone, with only the sound of the rush of the water flowing unassisted downstream, eventually to the ocean, surrounded by nothing resembling the hate and idiocy that thrives in this day and age and we seem to thrive on, it’s easy to not care.
There’s more to the world than what’s on the end of our noses. Or in our devices.
But I digress. From something. I may have a point or this may be another self-indulgent soliloquy. No matter. I’m free-flowing right now and knocking down trees and embracing the torrent my own way. I’m carving out what I have to and welcome the waves, and changes, that come from what on the surface may seem devastating.
The storm before the calm.
With our faces in devices and our tongues wagging on the widest variety of subjects, most that have no bearing in the grand scheme of things, with our hearts and minds believing that in this life one must partake and fit into it all somehow, I’ve made a deliberate choice to give it all a helluva lot less weight.
I’ll walk the floodplain. In the near future once things have dried out, and we’re in the dog days of summer, when you can walk across the river easily, seeing bottom, water to your knees, much of what we now think is so important will already be forgotten.
It’s 5:05am. The birds are a-tweetin’. After I scan the morning news, from a distance, and yes review the inanity of the day, I’ll be off. My boots are muddy from yesterday and will be again today, but so what?
I’m walking the floodplain.