Mountain streams and brooks are nature’s flowing veins. Attending them with a bit of cavernous perceptibility allows one to feel the pulsating throb of our planet. Here, come with me… Stand next to the lazy stream and focus your senses on what you see and hear. You will likely hear soft gurgling of water as it flows past those rocks and invisibly mends them in shape. You will see the turmoil in the water body, where everything is in flux and the only constant is the flow. Let’s be a little adventurous… go ahead, dip a part of your person in the flowing water. You will feel it is cold and your instinct will be to withdraw yourself from the chill. However, if you give yourself and the rivulet some time, you will become friends. The water will not be cold and withdrawn anymore. Instead, you will feel it rubbing your skin like a down feather. Softly, tenderly… as if it is infatuated with you. Next, try to smell the water. It is very likely, you will first smell the damp – mingling odors of algal, fungal and decomposing matter that hang loose in the wet air. But with time and your friendship with the stream, you will slowly smell the musty sweat of earth. Now, pay close auditory attention to your new friend and you will soon know that the river’s gurgling is structured in an octave; she is singing a never-written hymn. And she is talking to you.
If you haven’t realized already, all this while, you have been in the company of an oracle, who in her autumn attire, is silently conveying you an eternal prophecy: despite all odds, seasons, reasons, pains, and elation… all we can do is flow. Just flow.
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