In honor of World Water Day, March 22, here’s a little riff dedicated to the liquid that keeps us alive.
I remember drinking spring water in the Napa redwoods. We trekked up the creek, hopping stones, slipping in, getting wet, carrying our jugs far, far up, climbing a redwood-duff bank to an old pipe where spring water trickled out. We held the jug to the pipe’s mouth forever, watching the slow, slow fill, listening to the gurgling melody. Finally we lifted the jug to our lips and drank. Oh, sweet, fresh, pure goodness.
Tasting that goodness, you know water remembers the earth that cradled it. And water is in our blood, swooshing the earth-held music we once were, before we seeped out of rock and bubbled up, before we knew of walking, talking, handshakes and bread. Water is our memory of mother, encasing, encircling, thrumming a gestation beat. Water in my eyes, remember our no-seeing origin? Water of my mouth, remember an untasted time, sheltered from soot, untainted by gasoline?
If only we could remember our body is water, know ourselves drenched in love. Every drink would be a meeting with our source. Every sip would tell us we matter. Every rain shower would sing up our worth, dance down our crystalline, mirror-drop core.
Let’s walk up to the spring. Leave your load on the bank. Take off your shoes, step into the creek, feel the cool water curling over your toes, licking your soles, lapping your ankles. Follow me to the source. Drink pure goodness. You’ve never tasted life like this, but you’ll remember it. It will make you cry and smile and ease wide open. Listen. It’s an easy, never-ending harmony – the song of water, nowhere but in you.
Learn about World Water Day (http://www.worldwaterday.org/) & send me your riffs on blue gold…