NOTE: This was the inaugural post when I created my Metaphors of Life Journal blog back in 2009. I had to retire it some time ago because it became the target of too many spam comments. I’m resurrecting it now as a golden oldie.
“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.” Norman Maclean
Hmmm, is it just me? I am the only one who has these little post-it notes of memory stuck in my mind from years or even decades ago? They are small, gift-wrapped minutia of life which I periodically take out and examine like an old photograph.
Here’s one – a hazy, blurred-at-the-edges, childhood memory of going fishing one night on the Grand River. There were five of us – my father and grandfather, my uncle and his son, and I. Three generations linked by the rising anticipation of that tug on the line and the thrill of the catch.
But what was special about this particular outing was that we went after dark. We picked our way across stepping-stone rocks to a small island just off the shoreline. One by one we cast our lines into the silent, black water of the Grand.
You need to know that the Grand River at Caledonia is an impressive sight in the daylight. A couple of football fields wide, knee shallow in some places and drowning deep in others. But after dark it took on a different character – mysterious and mystical with a spine tingling grace and the echo of hundreds of years of history.
Honestly I don’t remember if we caught anything. On that particular occasion, it didn’t seem to matter. Being there in the nighttime embrace of the Grand was all I needed.
Why did this unremarkable event grow to be a gemstone in my memory?
Could it be that rivers are a part of our collective unconscious? Or, perhaps, an icon in our psychic mythology? I believe that in them we sense a metaphor for the ebb and flow, the rise and fall, the pulse and the pause of life itself.
“Who looks upon a river in a meditative hour, and is not reminded of the flux of all things? Throw a stone into the stream, and the circles that propagate themselves are the beautiful type of all influence.” Ralph Waldo Emerson
A river will always take you somewhere but is never in a hurry to get you there. It winds and meanders through the landscape with a mind quite its own.
Rivers teach us to slow down and trust the current. They remind us that it is not the destination that matters but rather what you learn on the journey.
I seldom see the Grand River these days. But when I do come upon it I am transported back to that precocious night when the river whispered to me: Be still. Be silent. I was here before you were conceived. I will be here after you are dust. I am eternal. I am unchanging. I am the River.
“Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.” Winnie the Pooh
~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of “Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel” – double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog. Visit www.smashwords.com to download a free preview of the e-book version.
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Tags: Emerson · fishing · Grand River · memories · metaphor · Michael Robert Dyet · Norman Maclean · riversNo Comments