I’m not sure I can pick a favorite form of water, although a tall cool glass of water is about the best friend I can ask for, most of the time.
But a little brook rippling through the woods of Vermont is pretty magical; looking down through the water, at rocks, peddles and minnows; watching leaves, twigs, dragon and damsel-flies skitter along the surface; the soothing motion, a tiny bubbling froth here, an eddy around a large smooth stone, gentle sounds and the deep, wet earth smell.
The scent of a pond or small lake has it’s own place in my memory. Early swimming lessons when unsheltered toes would slide through the silty muck at the shore. It isn’t quite mud, doesn’t stick like mud, because it’s under the water. The ground is firm underneath, but the top layer slides like silk over my feet. Yes, I hope that’s not a little fish nibbling at my toes. The water is mostly still and when the light is right, I am stunned by the reflection of clouds, sky blue and the upside-down trees along the shore. There’s nothing quite like the sound of soft droplets falling from a paddle, while gliding across the stillness in a canoe.
The salty water of oceans is delightful, with it’s own rhythms and powers. Needs desalination before drinking, however.
A river, particularly a mighty one, is quite a sight. Wide and slow moving or crashing over a waterfall, like Niagara. So much sound, mist and foaming water; like the ocean, the elemental power cannot be denied. The very air becomes charged with electricity and upright hairs on my arms and neck are the result. If you have seen a tropical waterfall from a distance, cascading like a sparkle against dense green, from a great height, dropping far far below into a pool or simply disappearing into the foliage of the rain forest.
Bathtub baths, hot tubs & jacuzzis, the steam room at the gym, outdoor showers, mist and fog (if walking, not for driving) and all sorts of rain. Torrential hurricane rains are fun to watch, if you are safe and warm inside. Soft quiet rains invite me for a walk among trees. Then I want a bath or shower, maybe warm PJs fresh from the dryer and time to curl up cozy with a cat or a book or a fuzzy blanket or a cup of tea or a friend or good music or some combination of those.
I could go on about my personal appreciation of water. Or I could begin a political diatribe about the polluting of water by fracking, pesticide run-off, coal-fired power plants and the other profit-driven industries that have and are fouling the worlds water supply. Or I could talk about the lack of potable water in countries and communities all over the world, with the attendant disease and mortality.
Or I could talk about the game of Jacks. The game of Jacks that looks easy and is not. Why Jacks? That was the image that came to mind when I thought about the four words I used as the title of yesterday’s post. These words that are beginning to come to the fore: advertising, food industry, shame, pushers, habit, addiction, stigma, salt.sugar.fat, processed food, causation, deconstruction, politics, profit, bias, anger, happiness and joy…
I imagined these words tossed up and landing in a different combination each time. Pieces of a puzzle that keep sorting and resorting, but are finally beginning to make the outline of a picture.
Not easy to scoop them up, before the ball bounces a second time.
So this is a ‘toss up’ with double meanings. I could choose either water or Jacks as my topic. Instead, I’ve done a bit of both and have decided to end with a touch of (pointed) humor. I am not the biggest fan of Jerry Seinfeld, but he has made me laugh. I generally like his stand-up routines better than his TV show. Comedy is peculiar; what sort of humor tickles your funny spot? I’ve learned that I appreciate jokes that make me think about human nature. Seinfeld has a bit about water that I love. See, there is a connection. I suggest getting a nice cool glass of water in hand and then clicking here.
Happy and safe Thanksgiving to all.