Some days the river is so sparkling that it appears solid. You feel as though you could almost walk across its shimmering surface, gleaming in the sunlight, like ice. And yet you know that it is tender and soft. Breakable, almost, were it not for the way it knows how to heal. Drop something heavy into it. Admire the way it erases the transgression of its surface with a slow whisper of lapping water. Watch the river swallow the heaviness, and then continue on. Learn this lesson.
The river continues, and in that way, it is both constant and forever changing. It is always the river, but it is also never quite the same. We’re not so different, are we? Forever ourselves, but always different than we were just a moment ago. Forever learning and evolving and continuing on. Forever moving, hard and soft as the river.
Answers always lead to more questions. One question always leads to another. The world doesn’t wait for us to catch up. Sometimes it feels as though I am just treading water, but in a way, that too, is movement.
Your body knows how to heal itself like the river. Wounds slowly become scabs, which eventually disappear. Or they leave scars, which you forever carry with you as the faint memory of your pain. But in a way, that too, is healing.
You have swallowed heaviness, no matter who you are, no matter if you have acknowledged it or not. You have sometimes wanted to appear solid. You have sometimes shined your surface. You have sometimes depended on your ability to seem cold, like ice.
And yet you know that you are tender and soft. Breakable, almost, were it not for the way you have yet to be broken. Because somehow, despite the unbearable weight that is sometimes dropped into your life, you are still here, surviving. You are still moving forward, continuing on. There are still more questions to be asked, and answers to be found. And then there will be more.
And you will keep rushing toward them, because this is what it means to be alive.
Time will float away, like the river. It will move too quickly and too slowly all at once. It will continue to change you. You will always be you, but you will always be different versions of you. But in a way, that too, is consistency.
You have learned this lesson at least once. You will learn it again and again. One revelation leads to another. You will forever be asking the important questions, whose answers are never quite the same.
Who am I? What do I want? What can I create? How do I love this world? How can I not love this world? How do I move forward, like the river? How do I make myself sparkle, like ice?
Meanwhile the river rushes forward. It doesn’t ask such questions. It simply continues on, healing itself in slow whispers. But in a way, that too, is an answer.