We don’t think about it often, but rivers change course. As sediment is carried down the river by the water, it falls out of suspension and builds up on the bottom. When there is enough of it, it actually pushes the river in a different direction. We call these deltas. Sometimes the river will cut through a property which someone owns. The boundary markers don’t change so the owner may now own property on both sides of the river or even an island in the river.

We are the river, sometimes crossing into another person’s world. It might be a car crash or a comment or a complement that changes everything for them.

“What am I?” asking myself how I could have done that bad or good thing. Was it just an unavoidable accident, or did I do it on purpose? “What are you?” thinks the other man that you could do this to me or for me.  One man might consider the same action by me as a detriment, while another might count it a blessing. As the river, I cannot help myself. Some sediment has built up in my life that forces me to go in a direction I would not have chosen. Then I ask myself,  “How did I get here?”

He who sees all and knows all, smiles because all of it was part of the plan; for me and for the other man .

So, I am the river that flows large, then diminishes, then floods with passion about some subject in its season. The people who do not move, those just clinging to the banks, hold on, but the river changes everything. It washes, and erodes, and deposits topsoil while carrying off  trees on a stormy night. Then the quiet returns as the force of who I am settles into the old watercourse, and I am at peace for a while.

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