What the River does

"If ever there were a connection among all people, it is the awe we feel in the face of moving water."  - Eric Adsit for American Whitewater, January/February 2010 issue

What the River Does

The river sometimes crawls, sometimes runs,

              Sometimes whispers, sometimes roars.

I have heard it sing

            and I have seen it beat its fists.

The tiniest rivulet, the mightiest torrent,

             these follow the same rules.

As one would leap, rush, and race to its destination,

             so the other.

As one would curl, turn, or ripple,

             so the other.

The river never hesitates to fall, nor balks at the mountains before it.

The river is not concerned with what lies ahead or behind.

The river does not care if you throw rocks at it or ride on its back.

The river need not think of who sits on its shores.

It is the quality and privilege of the river to be concerned with naught.

Rain or snow, sun or clouds, hot or cold,

               these are inconsequential to the river.

Should it freeze, it simply waits for spring.

Should it run dry, it waits for rain.

Should it flow over, it patiently looks for the sun.

Should it boil, it can be assured of someday reaching the tranquility of the sea.

The river knows it is neither alone nor independent, yet

                 it concerns itself little with the affairs of what it cannot change.

It would rather reflect the sun and the moon, flow onward, and

                 rest assured that the future, though unpredictable, is inevitable.