We’re so blessed in our Forest city to have so many tributaries of water – rivers, creeks and streams running through her. As often as possible, I take my walk to one of our parklands along the water’s edge. It’s vitality and diverse rhythm compels me to recognize these rhythms reflected in my own life. At times the current is strong, vibrant and full of potential, and life embodies a joyful ease. I am fully engaged in my life and all its hopes and dreams.
Sometimes the river becomes too high and the current so fast, the feeling of excitement is replaced with apprehension and fear. For a time, I may cling to the tangles of roots and plant life along her banks, entertaining all the possible what-ifs. If I hover in this place too long, the waters may become shallow and stagnant, exposing my vulnerable underbelly and all that’s been hidden. I might pretend to be content in this place of non-movement. Perhaps it is even my choice to be still and observe what I’m experiencing, while I regain courage and a sense of adventure. Then, before I lose sight of my hopes and dreams, the rains come and the river finds her fullness again. Before too long her waters caress and tickle, beckoning me to dance and play with her. And so I let go and ride her spirited current, until I bump up against some old familiar thought or doubt and momentarily hide behind a rock. Unexpectedly she tumbles over me, and entices me once again into her bubbling laughter and flow.
I remember how much freedom there is in surrendering to her rhythm, including all her twists and turns, her introspective stillness, and her joyful movement. Once again I feel light and true to my own nature and my own process. Laughter comes freely, tears are welcome, my heart feels alive and present, and I know I am moving in the rhythm of my life, just as it is.
In Light, Love and Rhythm,
Carole