My friend and I, we were looking over a creek flow by. The water was clear so you could see the bed, the stones. Night had brought a certain silence; the flowing water felt more loud. We talked about how life is a one way street, like that creek. Flowing fast and not stopping for anyone, anything. How some of us are the stones, stuck somewhere and the water is rushing over us, beyond us. How some others are leaves, floating madly in the waves. How a lot of times the stones or the leaves have no control, and are at the mercy of the water. The water kept flowing, ripples and all, endlessly, a new cycle every moment.
When we are parted by death or life, it seems impossible to carry on if the attachment is deep. It feels the void cannot be filled, the loss is unbearable, the stuckness is insurmountable. Yet some time later we find we have become attached to other things, people. That what hurt so much then, doesn't anymore. One might ask what's the point then? Many mouths, many answers but none satisfies. Each answer is tailored to ones own learning, experiences, habits.
Meanwhile, I am the stone who tried to change the course of the water, and is trying to become the leaf. And the water's kicking my butt.
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