@MJA,
MJA;29670 wrote:I can and I have stepped into the same river many more times than twice.
Sometimes twice in One day.
And that is absolutely and most certainly the truth!
The river is a great place to see the truth, I found it there myself.
I suggest if you don't know the truth, or are searching for the truth,
to go to the river and see for yourself.
The answers to everything can be found there too.
I should warn you though that It will take an open mind, One that is truly free.
=
MJA
I don't know about that . . .
I've spent a fair bit of time on the water. Been down various sections of the Colorado River a time or two, rafted the San Juan, capsized and had our 8-man Udisco oarframe completely destroyed on the Arkansas River by a 15-foot standing wave and was carried through about half a mile of of class III and IV rapids in nothing but a life jacket. If you want to experience "one-pointed meditation", really being
in the moment, give that a shot sometime. I've never river kayaked, but I've spent a lot of time on a few lakes in one, and I know how to roll one if I flip over.
I fish when I can (but rarely catch anything . . . that's not why I go). Many days, when the weather is nice, I leave work with my lunch and head to the park where I sit under the trees and watch the stream go by and eat my sandwich and mandarin oranges and just let all of the useless crap that sometimes clutters my head sort of float away.
And then I go back to my job. And then I go back to life
as it is, with all of its warts and briars, as well as its flowers and clear blue skies.
I keep going back to a line in
The Razor's Edge where Bill Murray (I know . . . go figure, but he's good in it) asks, "Is it true? That it is easy to be a holy man on top of a mountain?"
At the risk of sounding cliched and superficial, truth is where
you find it. Or, perhaps more accurately, your truth is found in the bits and pieces of it you find scattered about the world in which you live and which you try to assemble into something meaningful. But once you find that truth, you can never, ever, share it. No one would believe you anyway, and even if they did, they'd get it wrong . . . partly because it may still be incomplete, and partly because after a point your personal truth will become inexpressible, and partly because your truth of today may not be your truth of tomorrow.
It
is easy to be a holy man on top of a mountain. Or by the side of a river.
Rivers have taught me a lot of things. I've even seen bits of what I think is truth floating by. But I can't be sure, because the river keeps changing, and what I thought was truth might only have been a leaf or a stick. So I keep going back.
I've also found bits of truth in rock climbing, in riding my motorcycle in heavy traffic, in listening to music, in reading, in watching a brushfire, in the sound of wind, in watching helplessly as friends self-destruct, in movies, in lightning, in a weed growing in a parking lot, in road-kill, in falling snow . . . in short, everywhere, if your eyes are open and your mind is not just open, but empty as well.
Rivers I've stood by and ridden on have taught me a lot of lessons, but never once,
not once, have they said, "I am permanent."
But then again, maybe I'm not listening.