Water

I am at the river, and at my feet the water comes in from the ocean to the south, and some of it splits off to go north-east, and some takes the western road downtown, and some makes its life in the stillness of the fork, and now and again splashes upon the little rock by which I sit, in little waves.

I enjoy hearing the sound of the waves, background, baseline, uniform but unpredictable. And I enjoy watching the water toss itself about the shoreline, for its movement and its shape that are beyond precise expression, because it shows the physical infinitude of existence and reminds that language is only a painter thereof. This water is like the pigment and canvas from which representations are made – nature in its full relief, unchanged by the strokes of a brush, sitting below a more discrete symbolic effort at reality. The world seems to eclipse our own creativity, its shapes arising universally and in endless variety. But in being effortless, ever-present, it is wholly different from the problematic beauty of expression.

What is time for the water? Seconds leave it in novel attitudes, but profoundly unchanged. Its simplicity renders the thought of “action,” of subject differentiated from verb, senseless. What does water “do” if it is timeless?

The fantastically layered and complex mind of a person is, seen from the inside, a great contrast to simpler realities. A linear experience of time is basic to consciousness, and we see ourselves change as it passes, perceive thoughts as the cause of our actions, and require more verbs than just “to be.” The height of consciousness is also the depth of partiality; practical awareness limits us to a view of the system’s inner parts, whereas water is nothing and whole. So we draw a line separating willful man and beautifully thoughtless nature.

I think of realness and representation, creativity and being, smokestacks, birdnests, and trees. Nature is unsymbolic, and sparkles in the afternoon sun. We, I am led to say, are mistaken, inventive, fooled by what we are. I think that so saying is useful when we must think about time and action. But in the water things come together and even mountains lead down to the ocean.