You're trying to plug a hole in the wall of a dam from which the water would seep, if you would let it, ever so sweet and teasing with its taste, offering only a hint of the sparkle yet to come.
For years it had been dry, the water held back in some far off basin that glimmered like an impossible utopian dream, only because you wouldn’t allow yourself to start the journey to get back there.
Slowly you notice more holes as they begin to appear… You try and plug them. You succeed. But the flow continues, and you wonder… wonder about this magical water, feeling the potential power of it growing. It feels cleansing, powerful. You begin to remember that it means many things…
You think back to a long time ago when things were wet, when you were hopelessly, dripping, sopping wet. And you loved it. Your clothes clung to your body, heavy slaves, just like yourself. You were a slave to this feeling and all that it promised. Life had meaning because you were finally living it. Vulnerable as a soaked kitten but with eyes so bright, eyes that let the light of the world in so that it was almost blinding. You were in love. Bobbing around in the endless ocean, not caring where it led you. Bliss – pure and sweet. At least for a while…
Slowly, you noticed the water cooling. It felt as though it was losing some of its vitality. But its power remained. Slowly this power began to have a different effect on you. The water that used to make you feel alive was now starting to make you feel cold, and scared. It didn’t comfort you anymore. Your vulnerability was now something to fear, as the ocean got colder. You had drifted out way into the middle of it and you didn’t know how to find your way back to land. The cold waves were slapping at your face and the enormity and sheer power of the ocean dawned on you. You were lost. And there was nothing pleasant about it.
The night was long and dark. The waves kept coming. They got bigger. Emptiness claimed you.
When you awoke, the water remained. But it was still. And it was receding… Its power, which had grown bad, was slowly leaving. For this, you were grateful. As the water evaporated, so with it, seemingly, did your pain.
As the night met the sun, you greeted the day with new vigour. On the horizon you saw land, and you paddled towards it was the first rays bounced off the top of the last waves. You sucked up those rays like a greedy child. Loving the feeling of your drying skin. Of no more water.
You stayed on land for many years. You forgot the sound of water. How it felt on your skin. Of its ultimate power.
Now standing at the wall of the dam, you continue to block it. But you also remember the water. You remember all it can bring. The good and the bad.
Slowly, you let a small stream flow onto your face. It feels alive. Your parched skin opens its pores to receive this invigorating bath of the senses. You remember it. And you like it.
But then you block it off again. Water can be dangerous, you tell yourself. Best to keep it where it belongs.
Soon, you start to realise that you can’t escape water. You try to hide from it, but it doesn’t work. Water doesn’t give up. It keeps coming, even when you think you don’t want it. The flow is becoming stronger. You try to sleep, but you hear the soft patter of rain falling outside your bedroom window. You start to drift away, fall into the sound, falling back into the sparkling ocean, where you would bob on the waves, with a big dumb grin on your face and without a care in the world. You remember that the water gave you life.
But you still can’t seem face it. You have stayed dry for so long that the thought of even dipping your toe frightens you, even though you won’t admit it, even to yourself. You start to make excuses. Convince yourself that you don’t need water. That it is overrated anyway. Besides, the water will always be there.
And you’re starting to enjoy it, really, if you’re completely honest with yourself. The holes in the dam are getting bigger and they’re growing in number. Little pin pricks form streams of fresh, sparkling water that you let hit you. You don’t move away. The flow isn’t as strong as it was, but you still like it. You begin to bathe in it, dripping onto the floor with the beginnings of a grin spreading on your face.
It’s still a secret though, you tell yourself. You like it. No, you love it. You begin to remember, really remember, how good it feels. You start to sit out in the rain, just thinking about things…
Soon, you realise you want to get wet again. You’re ready. And suddenly, you realise you are wet. Again. You surrender to it. The dryness of years gone by is obliterated almost instantly. You’re wet again. And you love it.
But something is missing.
You’re actually thirsty.
So you go to the dam. Tell it you want some water. But while you were away, the flow had decreased even more. With no one asking for the water, its flow had slowed to little more than a trickle. Your glass receives only a minuscule amount. You quickly pour it down your throat, but it is only a taster, a teaser.
You want more, but the water has dried up. When the flow was plentiful, you were unsure, making excuses, but now you are certain, parched, there is nothing. You want the water to flow again. You need it to flow again.
You begin to discover that dryness has its own power. And it is not a good one. Without water flowing into you, there is no sparkle. You get some intermittent splashes now and again but it’s not enough. You are thirsty. The water left in your body is dark, dank. And it is still powerful. The power of it has returned…
You’ve let yourself get wet again. You don’t regret that, because you realise that water brings life. Without water, there is but only a pale, dry imitation of life. You realise that water needs to flow. Both ways.
But water always has, and always will, flow whichever way it pleases. It has never been something that you could control. As much as it hurts, you must wait for it to flow, if it ever does… But at least you rest safe in the knowledge that you’re not scared of it anymore. You have finally positioned yourself once again to receive it, that cool, refreshing giver of life that gives joy to all and colour to everything in existence.
For years it had been dry, the water held back in some far off basin that glimmered like an impossible utopian dream, only because you wouldn’t allow yourself to start the journey to get back there.
Slowly you notice more holes as they begin to appear… You try and plug them. You succeed. But the flow continues, and you wonder… wonder about this magical water, feeling the potential power of it growing. It feels cleansing, powerful. You begin to remember that it means many things…
You think back to a long time ago when things were wet, when you were hopelessly, dripping, sopping wet. And you loved it. Your clothes clung to your body, heavy slaves, just like yourself. You were a slave to this feeling and all that it promised. Life had meaning because you were finally living it. Vulnerable as a soaked kitten but with eyes so bright, eyes that let the light of the world in so that it was almost blinding. You were in love. Bobbing around in the endless ocean, not caring where it led you. Bliss – pure and sweet. At least for a while…
Slowly, you noticed the water cooling. It felt as though it was losing some of its vitality. But its power remained. Slowly this power began to have a different effect on you. The water that used to make you feel alive was now starting to make you feel cold, and scared. It didn’t comfort you anymore. Your vulnerability was now something to fear, as the ocean got colder. You had drifted out way into the middle of it and you didn’t know how to find your way back to land. The cold waves were slapping at your face and the enormity and sheer power of the ocean dawned on you. You were lost. And there was nothing pleasant about it.
The night was long and dark. The waves kept coming. They got bigger. Emptiness claimed you.
When you awoke, the water remained. But it was still. And it was receding… Its power, which had grown bad, was slowly leaving. For this, you were grateful. As the water evaporated, so with it, seemingly, did your pain.
As the night met the sun, you greeted the day with new vigour. On the horizon you saw land, and you paddled towards it was the first rays bounced off the top of the last waves. You sucked up those rays like a greedy child. Loving the feeling of your drying skin. Of no more water.
You stayed on land for many years. You forgot the sound of water. How it felt on your skin. Of its ultimate power.
Now standing at the wall of the dam, you continue to block it. But you also remember the water. You remember all it can bring. The good and the bad.
Slowly, you let a small stream flow onto your face. It feels alive. Your parched skin opens its pores to receive this invigorating bath of the senses. You remember it. And you like it.
But then you block it off again. Water can be dangerous, you tell yourself. Best to keep it where it belongs.
Soon, you start to realise that you can’t escape water. You try to hide from it, but it doesn’t work. Water doesn’t give up. It keeps coming, even when you think you don’t want it. The flow is becoming stronger. You try to sleep, but you hear the soft patter of rain falling outside your bedroom window. You start to drift away, fall into the sound, falling back into the sparkling ocean, where you would bob on the waves, with a big dumb grin on your face and without a care in the world. You remember that the water gave you life.
But you still can’t seem face it. You have stayed dry for so long that the thought of even dipping your toe frightens you, even though you won’t admit it, even to yourself. You start to make excuses. Convince yourself that you don’t need water. That it is overrated anyway. Besides, the water will always be there.
And you’re starting to enjoy it, really, if you’re completely honest with yourself. The holes in the dam are getting bigger and they’re growing in number. Little pin pricks form streams of fresh, sparkling water that you let hit you. You don’t move away. The flow isn’t as strong as it was, but you still like it. You begin to bathe in it, dripping onto the floor with the beginnings of a grin spreading on your face.
It’s still a secret though, you tell yourself. You like it. No, you love it. You begin to remember, really remember, how good it feels. You start to sit out in the rain, just thinking about things…
Soon, you realise you want to get wet again. You’re ready. And suddenly, you realise you are wet. Again. You surrender to it. The dryness of years gone by is obliterated almost instantly. You’re wet again. And you love it.
But something is missing.
You’re actually thirsty.
So you go to the dam. Tell it you want some water. But while you were away, the flow had decreased even more. With no one asking for the water, its flow had slowed to little more than a trickle. Your glass receives only a minuscule amount. You quickly pour it down your throat, but it is only a taster, a teaser.
You want more, but the water has dried up. When the flow was plentiful, you were unsure, making excuses, but now you are certain, parched, there is nothing. You want the water to flow again. You need it to flow again.
You begin to discover that dryness has its own power. And it is not a good one. Without water flowing into you, there is no sparkle. You get some intermittent splashes now and again but it’s not enough. You are thirsty. The water left in your body is dark, dank. And it is still powerful. The power of it has returned…
You’ve let yourself get wet again. You don’t regret that, because you realise that water brings life. Without water, there is but only a pale, dry imitation of life. You realise that water needs to flow. Both ways.
But water always has, and always will, flow whichever way it pleases. It has never been something that you could control. As much as it hurts, you must wait for it to flow, if it ever does… But at least you rest safe in the knowledge that you’re not scared of it anymore. You have finally positioned yourself once again to receive it, that cool, refreshing giver of life that gives joy to all and colour to everything in existence.
