- "Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless - like
water. If you put water in a cup it becomes the cup. You put water into
a bottle it becomes the bottle. You put it into a teapot it becomes the
teapot. Now, water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend."
-Bruce Lee 1940-1973
-
- God is a thunderhead, a dewdrop, a grass stem. And so
am I. God is a snowdrift, a mountain stream, a salmon eye. And so am I.
God is formless, shapeless, everywhere and nowhere. And so am I.
-
- Men are like water, longing for the source, and like
water, restless and calm. Ready to flow, wander, disappear, settle.
-
- Dirty, we become pure the moment we rise above the earth.
Polluted, we become clean when removed from the source of our poisons--or
the poisons removed from us. When I die, the better part of me evaporates
and becomes millions of water molecules in the sky. No matter what, or
who, I was before: billionaire developer, postal worker, drug dealer, defense
contractor, renowned doctor or sports star, I am now only steam rising--purified
water--leaving the heavy metals and the money behind.
-
- Then returning as a raindrop falling through the clouds,
a particle of a rainbow, an ice crystal perhaps. Rising, falling, forever
changing shapes.
-
- We are all children of God. Literally, droplets of a
deeper ocean, children of a liquid god. Dying and evaporating and reincarnating
and being reborn again into another shape. God is in the water, and so
are we.
-
- "Moving, be like water. Still, be like a mirror,"
said Bruce Lee. "If there is a God, he is within."
-
- Years ago, we young Catholics were taught that the invisible
God takes three forms, as the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Later
the church fathers changed ghost to Holy Spirit, so as not to scare little
kids. Few cared then; we didn't give much thought to God, unless required
in class. God was somewhere in the sky and Jesus was dead and reportedly
risen. Who knew where the Holy Ghost---spirit--lived.
-
- God was supposed to be stern but fair. God would listen
to our human prayers, we were told, and then through some sort of conductivity,
which neither priests nor nuns could explain or demonstrate, would grant
or deny our request. And that was the God of Christianity, as taught to
the young.
-
- Formless, shapeless, mysterious.
-
- All religions sanctify water. Most have a water spirit,
goddess or deity. But I believe it is water that purifies religion, not
the other way around. I mean, Jesus preferred to meditate around a lake,
river or stream to being around men. How many times did Jesus mention water
in a positive light and how many times did he mention men in a positive
light?
-
- If God is the ocean (deep, mysterious, powerful) what
is an ice berg? If Jesus and the saints are like refreshing rivers, what
is a snowstorm? What is the blinding fog, that baffles mariners and endangers
motorists? What is an aquifer, freshet, waterfall or rainstorm? Over the
years water, not money, mesmerized me.
-
-
-
- Does the ocean hear the raindrop? Does a leaf beseech
a tree for more water? Can a snowflake speak to the sky? Maybe they can
and do. Water is magic and may have a voice we mere fools cannot even hear.
-
- For example: Now we see a calm lake reflecting the sky
and surrounding landscape. And somehow that stillness, that loveliness
calms our inner storms. Especially if we are alone. Why should that image,
of a reflected lake, fill us with serenity (however unsettled), no mater
what our religion, or where we came from or where we're going? Is God the
lake or the sky--or only the reflection in our liquid eye? Can a mere mortal
comprehend God? Does a raindrop comprehend the river that carries it to
the sea? No, you say? Then why is it we sense the greater part of ourselves
to which we belong?
-
- To which we long?
-
- Every summer that I've stood on the deck of a fishing
boat in Alaska, I've seen an aura around my head at midday. No angel wings
or halo however--I'm not that saintly. Fissures of light on the water,
instead, weaving from my silhouette. Never been able to explain it. Maybe
it is simply my body heat radiating from my form but I cannot duplicate
the aura anywhere else on any other water under the same conditions. Maybe
it is saltwater calling me home, calling the saline solution in me, letting
me know I'm 'borrowed' from the ocean and will be back one day.
-
-
-
- Water beguiles me, consoles me, refreshes me. I'm loneliest
among a crowd, in a city, surrounded by streets and buildings. And yet
I never feel alone or lonely when suddenly seeing water, even miles from
the nearest human. That is how we all prefer to see water: in its purest
form, far from humans.
-
- Seeing and feeling the first raindrops, in the desert
or the forest, smelling the earth greeting it, makes me happy. As I've
gotten older I take the time to stand under the first falling rain, let
a few drops soak into my skin. As an old girlfriend once said to me: 'You're
not sugar; you won't melt.'
-
- I've rarely had a bad day around water, except the two
or three times when I've almost drowned. But maybe water was only playing
rough, playfully. God giving me a good shake.
-
- We quench our thirst with a sip of liquid God. At least
that is how cool water feels to me on a hot day. We are all children of
the same God. Literally, droplets of a deeper ocean, children of a liquid
god. Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, Jew. Dying and evaporating and
reincarnating and being reborn again into another shape. God is in the
water, and so are we.
-
-
-
- Nowadays I only see God in the lakes, rivers and seas.
God reveals himself to me, a simple creature composed of 72% water, whether
in a spring storm or a single dewdrop on a fern or a foaming wave about
to swamp my boat. The holiest of spirits reside in the trembling sky, thick
with rain above the dry desert floor, or the creek bed flush with fresh
water gladdening my heart. Now I know why many religions believe in water
sprites and goddesses.
-
- "Moving, be like water. Still, be like a mirror,"
Bruce Lee said. "If there is a God, he is within."
-
-
- Longtime Alaska fisherman, recent novelist and essayist,
Douglas Herman (pictured) writes for Rense regularly. He is at douglasherman7@yahoo.com
|
