Cello Song

I kept thinking today of ways that rivers apply to my life. It's a natural thing for a writer to do, look at nature's perfect progression of life as a symbol for how we all struggle. I'm pretty sure that's why we all have the "naturalism" section in our lit. courses, in fact.  But the truth is, my life is not like a river. A river flows with a current, a purpose, so to speak, and no matter how shallow or how deep it may get, it never stops.  A river may drop hundreds of feet on it's journey, and never wonder why it fell.  We as people though, (at least most of us) find ourselves falling and wondering what the hell happened.  We analyze, go to therapy, take anti-depressants, and still we drop.

I begin to wonder if we worry too much.  What if there was a better flow to the right and we went left instead?  What's the worst that could happen? In a river, our muscles get stronger, we have to work more, but in life, it's a MISTAKE.  Forget four letter words, I fear those seven letters more than anyone could swear.  It's nice for us all to say we learned in our past paths, but truly, there is always a stigma that goes with it.  Is it really ok to mess up? Or has forgiveness become so trendy that it doesn't matter as long as long as you're sorry?  I am listening to Nick Drake right now...someone whose music haunts me years after he took his leave...I wonder if the forgiveness of those around him could have drowned his sorrows like a river can.  I am glad my own can be calmed by calm waters...even if I am still left correcting.