River of Life

I live and grow on the river, where all the windows are doors if you understand reflection.
Every river leads to the same destination, but do they all end there?

I find myself at a fork in the rivers with the current pushing me much too fast.
Wherever it takes me I will always have my boat. Though I hope it develops from this crudely fashioned raft into a well furnished yacht.

I am able to ride the crest of a wave long enough and high enough to see where the next fork will take me.
The taller the wave, the more I see, the more I realize just how thick the fog really is.

At the next fork I will choose the river with the most twists and turns; the deepest, clearest water.
I will see in the depths many smooth stones painted by time. They will speak to me and anyone else who cares to listen.

They will tell me that I have never been here before and never will again.
They will warn me of the eddy. They will teach me that the journey is where my fortune will be found.

Their whispers are transposed into my laughter as I realize that I am the one who cast these stones.
Oh, how grace has polished them.

The river flows through us, from one to another. We must learn how to keep the river flowing.
Let it rush in, feel its power, take a cool drink, and let it be shared.

Sometimes I encounter a dam, built in desperation, and sometimes someone pisses upstream from me.       Why?

These things cannot drown me.
I take a deep breath of good air - become like the water.
I absorb all that I can but can never be punctured.

I learn from them the secret to make their rivers better, and to create my own river - a river where all the windows are doors; A river that leads to and through my destination.
It flows up, into the enlightened sky, and there, time stops and the fog lifts.
When I stand there, on solid ground, I know I will be very glad I had such a good boat.

-Scott Overlock

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