Been thinking about this lately: sometimes water moves in flow, motivated by gravity to follow the path of least resistance. And there is a channel, a place for it to go.
And other times, water spreads out. This too is a path of least resistance, although the motion is not visible to the naked human eye. Sometimes water runs into a flat place, and finds the soil saturated. Nothing more can be soaked up by the ground, so it finds low places. Pools form. Or water rests in a sheen of moisture.
Life is like that. I want to be in motion, running through an obvious channel, transforming energy into work. I want life to be clear and direct. But it’s not always. Sometimes it spreads into a saturated field, not stagnant but not moving. Look what blooms in this stillness–orchids who don’t mind having wet feet. The water goes into flowers and into the air.
As I wait for spring to really arrive, to revive hiking and gardening, I am learning to be still in this receptive time of being a meadow. My energy is pooled up, waiting to grow. I must accept wet feet for now.
March 5, 2013 at 5:23 pm
This is a powerful lesson, Deb. I have trouble with the still times, but they can often be more productive, just as water nourishes more when it slows than when it rushes away.
(And I’m sorry WordPress sees fit to throw inappropriate ads into your post with only the tiniest label to that effect!)