I sit at the edge of the creek quietly, thinking about the flows of water. Where did this water come from? And where will it go? Who and what has come into contact with this water?
I am frequently pulled away from my thoughts and thinking with the water as cars and trucks go whizzing by on the nearby highway. I wonder how one can simultaneously be held captivated by the water, by its calming sounds and relaxing rhythms, while at the same time be held in angst from roaring highway noises in the background. If water is supposed to be calming, peaceful, and quiet, the water here is anything but…
But if you focus hard enough, and really pay attention to the water, then everything else in the background slowly fades. I watch the water as it flows downstream, bringing with it any debris, branches or leaves that fall into it. I watch as bubbles form as the water hurries over a rock, travels downstream, and then disappear.
If water could speak, I’m sure it would have a hundred tales. How is it that the water that we have today is still the same water from over thousands of years ago? Or is it? Who else, or what else has come into contact with this water?
I stop for a second to focus in on a small yellow leaf that was gently resting at the waters edge. Where did this leaf come from? Has it fallen from a tree close by, or has it made its way from a tree miles and miles up the creek? Where will this leaf go? Perhaps it will be eaten by a fish, or perhaps it will be taken in by the river or the lake, being forgotten as it disappears to the bottom of the lake. Will someone along the shores in Burlington see it? What about Toronto? Ottawa? Much like this leaf, I wonder then and continue to wonder about the flows of water…and also about the flows of pollution (but I’ll leave that for another post…)and instead just sit here, continuing to watch the water.