As I sit here and write, dipping my feet in the water is literally what I’m doing! Today is a gorgeous summer day and here we are, taking a break of the busy city life, spending the day on the river. W is fishing but he hasn’t caught anything yet. As for me, not being quite the aspiring fisherwoman he wishes I were, I gladly took the opportunity to take my shoes off and soak my tired feet in the refreshing cold water.
This is yet another little big joy life has set on my path but there is so much more to it than the literal meaning. You see, life is a mountain river. It springs from sources unknown, small but powerful, already a force to be reckoned with. It runs its course down the valley, fraying its path through the unyielding rocks, shaping them as it goes. Sometimes it grows fast and narrow, bubbling with froth at the surface. At other times, it creates deep, tranquil pools — just a breather before plunging again towards a waterfall. It has many tributaries — friends and family — who run alongside for a while before their path diverges again, temporarily or permanently. Yes, all lives are mountain rivers, their courses are rarely linear but they never stop nor do they run backwards. Throughout the ride, be it slow or agitated, we must follow it to the end and trust it to bring us where we’re meant to go.
