A CREEK EXPERIENCE

Here by the creek, where the bank is wide and grassy, where the willows grow abundantly - I let some things go. My shoes and sox come off. I sit for a moment on the bank, but the water calls me in. Walking carefully, my feet appreciate the first shallow waters, the coolness and flow, the deep rosey hue of willow roots that softly cushion my entrance.

Moving onto stones, going with the flow, my heart opens to the shallow, singing water as it sparkles silver above the rich copper-brown color of its bed. Hiking up my dress, I raise the depth of water into which I can walk without drenching my clothes. I am heading for a small log along the shore, thinking to sit there a while. But the water is deeper than I thought, and hiking up my clothes still more, I decide to stop where I am – some goals are meant to move us along, but aren't truly meant to be reached.

Turning toward the bank and touching it to help me balance as I turn, I am drawn to lean against it. Hands and forehead press against the grassy earth as my legs remain deep in the cool, flowing water. This leaning becomes a bow, a prostration, a prayer without words that beats from my heart, flows through my blood, exudes from my pores, pours out with the exhalation of my breath.

Then I press myself back up, walk a few steps upstream, and stop again. This place becomes me, in some small way, as I absorb the feel of it – in my body, in my heart, in my soul. My mind searches for words to name the energies I feel, but I am inarticulate in this. I feel the river flowing, and rejoicing in its flowing. I feel the sparkle on the water as a sparkle in my being. I feel the trees reaching skyward, their energies still spent on growing - the summer, though coming to a close, still strong within them now.

My skin wants more of this water, and I cup my hands to pour it over the full length of my arms, touching my shoulders and chest, splashing my face again and again. I stop, stand still, looking intently - not for something, not at something - just looking intently with my senses reaching out. I feel like a doe who has come to the river, looking up after drinking, or like a long-sleeping nature spirit momentarily awakened.

Stepping out of the water, I sit again on the bank, with thanks and gratitude offering a few strands of hair to the river, the shore, the trees, the day, to the grace that carried me here and continues to carry me home.


© 2008, 2013 Dyan Renée Hummel

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Sun Song by Willow Arlenea

Sun Song by Willow Arlenea
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To join my voice with others
on paths of unfoldment
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inspiration and encouragement
through spiritual poetry,
nature poetry and other
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