Anna could feel the air growing cooler as she followed the sandy forest trail down the hill. She could hear the river singing long before she could see it. There were lots of stones in this part of the river and the water rolled and crashed over them, creating a burbling, rushing kind of a sound that was music to her. The song got louder as she came down the last hill and she could see the sunlight bouncing off of the white water as it danced to its own music, over the stones.
Standing at the edge of the riverbank, she bent over to
sprinkle the offering that she made on each visit, to show respect and
love. And then she sang to the
river. She let her voice be strong to
match the sound of the water. Beside her
was an old Eastern White Cedar tree, rooted into the river bank. Some of the purple and orangish roots were
out in the open above the river water which had washed away the earth that was once
held in their embrace. The bark was
papery soft and warm as she stroked the trunk.
She could smell the warm cedar resin being released into the air and she
felt comforted by the familiar scent.
Anna rested her head on the trunk and listened to the birds singing in
the forest all around her. Their song
mingled with that of the river, clear, alive and bright. She hummed along with them and the sound of
the cedar which emerged in her imagination, joined in as well.
The music urged her to move and she carefully lowered
herself so that she was sitting on the edge of the riverbank. Not needing to remove her waterproof sandals,
she swung her feet into the river and felt its cool water flowing and wrapping
around her legs and feet, like caresses.
She wiggled her toes and bent her ankles up and down. The feeling was one of relief, of letting go. Anna felt her face muscles move into a smile.
Using the cedar trunk to steady her, she rose to her feet
and felt the sand on the bottom of the river supporting her. She carefully examined the river and its large
stones, looking for a path through them where she could walk. The fast water in the centre of the flow
crashed up against the rocks and shot off on both sides. To the sides of the centre, the water wove
around smaller rocks, twisting and turning effortlessly as gravity drew it
forward. But, closer to the riverbank,
the water moved quite slowly, sometimes becoming an eddy with spinning twigs
and leaves. That looked to be about her speed. She looked downstream and
saw some fallen logs blocking the side of the river. She imagined she would be able to step over
those. Best to take a walking stick for
support, she thought. Glancing at the
river bank, she saw a fallen cedar branch that looked as though it would
do. Carefully walking through the water,
she came to the stick and tried it out.
Perfect. It even had a little
bump at one end to support her thumb.
The stones on the bottom of the river were smooth from
years of flow wearing them down. Luckily,
they were not slimy or slippery due to the speed of the current and she easily
stepped on them as she made her way downstream.
When she came to a balsam tree that had recently fallen into the river,
she stopped. She watched how the river
current sped up as it hit the trunk and flowed along its length. Once reaching the clear area, the water
joined with the other part of the river, splashing as if giving high fives to
an old friend. Planting her cedar stick,
she stepped over the log and found stable footing on the other side. Lifting the remaining leg, she felt a little
dizzy. She quickly brought it over to
the downstream side of the log and put her weight onto it. Her foot landed on a stone that rocked and
down she went, splashing into the river.
The water felt surprisingly good and she burst out laughing
as she sat beside the log, waist deep in the river. Up ahead, she could see the end of the rapids
where the river deepened. Raising her
self up with her stick and the fallen log, she picked her way through the
stones until she could feel the water rising on her legs. Once she was waist deep, she leaned forward
and swam, releasing her stick which floated along beside her. The river had widened and deepened here and
therefore slowed. She could feel the
current carrying her forward and she relaxed into it. Coming around a curve, Anna could see a long stretch ahead with no obstacles. And so, she flipped onto her back and floated
feet first. Looking up she saw Maple
leaves floating above her. The blue sky
peeked between the bright green spring leaves and every now and then, a sunbeam
broke through a small gap, making her close her eyes. The sensation was wonderful. She felt the river embracing her, supporting
her, carrying her and she surrendered to it.
Suddenly, a Blue Jay’s sharp cry startled her and she
opened her eyes. There were Hemlock and
Cedar branches overhead now and she could feel the river speeding up. Flipping over onto her stomach she brought
her legs down and felt for the bottom.
Standing up, she looked downriver.
She could hear a low roar ahead but couldn’t see anything. Returning to the water, she did the breast
stroke along with the river which was speeding up even more. She swam over to the river bank and stood up,
holding a cedar trunk for balance.
Carefully climbing out, Anna noticed the spongy feel of the forest floor
covered with rust coloured cedar needles.
She became aware of the roots under her feet and the fungal
communication networks that connected them.
She imagined, all the messages darting through the network and bugs and
animals that lived underground all going about their business as she strode
along their roof. That made her walk
more softly, more respectfully on the earth.
The roaring sound grew louder and it wasn’t long before she
came to a small waterfall. The air was
warm and so she sat on the edge of the bank and watched the water cascading
over the larger boulders. She knew that
this brought air into the water for the fish. She watched some of the water spray up into a
mist, bringing water to the air. The
relationship of water and air was ancient and graceful.
Her mind jumped to a picture of people going over rapids
and waterfalls in kayaks and canoes.
That was not for her though. She
had had enough excitement in her life.
She knew what it was to have the proverbial rug pulled out from under
her feet, to have secrets revealed that tore apart her safety, her trust. She knew about loss and falling. She knew about struggling to keep her head
above water. Somehow, she was never quite sure how or why, she had come through
the rapids and waterfalls in her life.
The river of her life had carried her around the rocks and boulders and
brought her once again into calm waters.
River rafters talk about finding the through line in a
rapid, the way that will carry you safely through danger. They say that staring at the obstacles will
lead you to collide with them. Anna had
learned that the hard way. She had
collided with people who felt hard like rocks, unmoving, unwilling to
compromise. She had wasted energy doing
that, but she had learned. Her through line was her children she supposed. She had made it through because they needed a
mother, an intact mother so that they could grow up safely. But they no longer needed her for
survival. Occasionally for advice or a
little help, but they were capable and resilient adults.
When they all left home, she had to find another through
line and she chose taking care of her elderly father but as he needed more care
and now lived in an nursing home, her tasks became less. What was her through line now? Why was her river still flowing if she wasn’t
needed by others? Could it be that the
river was flowing just for her now? Could
the through line be the one she chose for herself?
Picking her way along the river bank, she came to the
bottom of the waterfall. The river
widened once again and curving like a giant serpent, it disappeared out of sight. Anna stepped into the water and made her way
to the centre once again. The water
was up to her armpits here and she easily pushed off and did a slow breast
stroke with the current. She liked the
feeling of being carried forward, of relaxing into the lazy pull of this dance partner.
As the river brought her around the curve, she noticed a
tributary entering the flow of her river. The water in this new stream was dark
brown and a fascinating pattern of light and dark was created as the two waters
mingled. She brought herself into a
crouch and let her hands move through the intersection area of the two rivers. The patterns played over her hands in a kind
of living piece of art and she stayed there, mesmerized by the fluidity of the
creations, appearing and disappearing before appearing once again.
Here, the river widened once again, making space for both
streams of water. When her curiosity was
satisfied to some degree, she leaned into the river once again and floated like
a frog with an occasional stroke of her arms.
Up ahead, she saw a small island in the middle of the river. It was covered in grass. Putting her feet
down once again, she climbed onto the tiny piece of land. There, she noticed the heart-shaped leaves of
violets. They were in full bloom, purple
and yellow. She picked one leaf and a
flower, examining its tiny perfection. Knowing that these were indeed edible and a
good source of vitamin C, she popped them in her mouth and savoured the wild
flavour with her eyes closed.
When she opened her eyes again, she noticed a small Painted
Turtle basking at the far end of the little island. The sunlight highlighted the red markings on the outer rim of its dark green shell. The turtle was
using the sunlight to get enough energy to digest the food it had eaten
earlier. Anna thought about basking,
soaking up energy to feed her own body and realized that that was what she had
been doing with the river. She had been
soaking in the energy of the current and the trees, birds, insects, animals and
plants, charging her batteries so to speak.
She made a silent offering to the turtle and then quietly slipped back
into the stream.
She felt that she must be getting close to the mouth of the river by now
because the water slowed down, and got deeper and wider. The trees were more spaced out now and she
could sense civilization, such a funny word, approaching. Feeling a little sad, she swam over to the
river bank and held onto a sweeper, a fallen tree that was partially hidden by
the water. Leaning against the sunken trunk, she could feel the flow of the
river pushing her forward, but the tree held her firm. She felt a reluctance to rejoin people and
cars and homes and the general hubbub of life.
She was happy here in the forest, in the river, with her wild self. She wasn’t ready to put on the masks of
civility, there was that word again, checking her actions. She longed to bring her wild self home, to be
free to explore and learn.
It was then that she heard, “Who who who who. Who who who who who.” She
looked up into the trees and saw a huge Barred Owl sitting on an Oak
branch. She called back to the owl,
using the cadence of “who cooks for you?
Who cooks for you all?” The owl
replied once again. Anna, stared up at
its big dark eyes and yellow beak. The
owl returned her stare silently. Anna
knew that the owl was an ancient symbol of wisdom and the ability to see things
that others can’t see. She also knew
that some people saw the owl as a harbinger of death and that hearing or seeing
an owl was a warning of some change that was going to occur. Some people even believed that the owl
brought the spirit of deceased loved ones.
Somehow though for Anna, there in the river, propped up against a
tree, the owl was a fellow traveller, moving through the forest. She admired the owl’s ability to fly silently
because of its soft feathers. She liked
to move through the world quietly as well, trying not to be noticed. She closed her eyes and imagined that she
could fly just like the owl. In her
imagination, she opened her long wings and flapped a few times, then glided
through the tree branches. She was
amazed at how sharp her sight had become and she saw small animals darting
about on the forest floor. Squirrels
froze in their places as she flew past.
She loved the feel of the air being pushed downwards by her wide wings
and how graceful she felt. She saw a
tall White Pine ahead and lifted herself higher to reach the top. Using her wings to slow her flight, she put
her talons forward and landed on an upper branch. From there, she could turn her head, almost
all the way around and survey the forest.
At the edge of the trees, she could pick out cars moving along and the
river flowing under a bridge and then into the big lake. She noticed that the sun was getting close to
the horizon and that the sky was turning pink.
It was time to go home. Opening
her wings once again, she lifted off of the branch and then swooped gracefully,
silently down through the trees, pumping her wings every now and then. Up ahead, she saw her woman self still
resting in the river. She landed on the
Oak tree and closed her eyes. When she
opened them again, she was aware that she was getting cold, there in the
water. It was definitely time to go
home.
Anna looked up into the Oak tree but found only
branches. The owl was gone. She made her way around the sweeper and swam
strongly now downstream. In a few minutes,
she came to a grassy yard and a house.
Climbing up the little ladder onto the dock, she emerged back into the
land of people once again. Trying to
make herself presentable, she squeezed the water out of her dress and ran her
fingers through her hair. Something was
stuck in the tangles of her hair and she felt around to free it. Bringing it to her face, she saw that it was
an owl feather, barred with brown and white stripes. Its outer edges were uneven. Smiling, she popped the feather into her pocket
and strode to the door of the house.
Hoping to use a phone to get a ride home, she put a smile on her face
before knocking. But it wasn’t a mask. She was not returning to a role or a socially
appropriate persona. No. She now knew that she could swim in the
river of her life and she knew how to fly.
No comments:
Post a Comment