The Druid's Garden

Spiritual Journeys in Tending the Land, Permaculture, Wildcrafting, and Regenerative Living

Spiritual Practices to Finding Equilibrium in the Chaos: Grounding, and Flow through the Druid Elements July 22, 2016

A tremendous amount of really difficult occurrences are happening in the world right now. It seems like the more time that passes, the more we balance on the edge. The edge of what exactly, nobody can say.  But the edge of something, and likely, not something any of us are looking forward to. Things seem to be spinning faster, and faster; the light growing darker and darker.  A lot of folks are having difficulty just coping with reading the news or even being on social media, the enormity of everything–social, political, environmental, personal–weighing down.  Responses to this range from rage and anger to numbness. There is a heaviness in the air that cannot be discounted.

A good place to seek the stability of calas

A good place to seek the stability of calas

 

And so, many of us turn to spiritual practices as a way of helping make sense of it all, to find a way forward, finding a way to keep ourselves sane and to levy some positive change in the world. For me, any outer healing or change in the world begins with my own inner work, finding my own inner equilibrium in order to compassionately respond and enact change. I find myself returning, again and again, to the elemental work I did in my AODA and OBOD curriculum: working with the healing power of the elements, seeking balance within. And so, I’m not going to talk about everything that is happening (as a lot of it is well outside of the scope and purpose of this blog), but I am going to share with you some ways of self-care and balance seeking that I’ve found helpful in dealing with all of this. Specifically, I’m going to use the framework of the three druid elements: gwyar, calas, and nywfre, and discuss how we might use those elements (particularly the first two) to help maintain our own equilibrium during difficult times.

 

Equilibrium

We have a lot of terms that get raised when we are faced with instability (instability of any type: culturally, locally, politically, or personally). These terms most often focus on grounding, but may also include balance, composure, equilibrium. I actually prefer the world equilibrium, for a few reasons. One dictionary suggests that equilibrium is “a state in which opposing forces or influences are balanced.” What I like about the definition and concept of equilibrium is that it doesn’t require one response (e.g. grounding) but rather a range of responses based on the needs of the moment.

For example, if I am feeling really disconnected, scattered, and unfocused, I might do some grounding techniques that help more firmly root me back in place. But there are times that being rooted firmly in place is not the best idea, and instead, I need to let go and simply learn to flow. Equilibrium implies both of these things: finding and maintaining it is situational based on the context and your own needs.

 

Grounding, or the work of Calas

When I talk to spiritual friends about these times and all that is happening, I think a lot of them talk about “grounding” and grounding strategies. Grounding usually happens when we connect with the energies of the earth, of stability, of calm. In the three druid element system, this grounding is clearly represented by calas, which is the principle of solidity and substance. Calas represents the physical substance of things, the strength in the cell walls of the plant, the stones beneath our feet, the stable and unchanging fathoms of the deepest caves. When we ground, we plant ourselves firmly and solidly on the living earth–we plant our feet strongly and with purpose. We stand our ground, so to speak, we dig in our heels, we spread ourselves out upon the earth and feel its stability and strength.  Now, there are times when grounding is the correct response, and there are also times where I actually think it does more harm than good. The key questions to determine whether or not grounding is an effective approach seems to be: do I need stability in my life right now? Do I need something firm to stand on, to hold on, and to simply be present with? If the answer to these questions is “yes”, then by all means, ground away. But recognize that sometimes, holding fast to something is a reactionary response, rather than the best response.

 

There are so many practices and ways of grounding–I’ll just share a few of my favorites.

Earthing and forest walking. I really love to take a barefoot walk through a path in a very familiar forest (even better if it is raining, lol).  I wouldn’t do this in an unfamiliar forest, or one that has a lot of poison ivy or brambles. But certain forests, dirt paths, and mossy areas lend themselves really well to this kind of activity. It is the most simple thing–you take off your shoes and socks, and simply walk on the earth.  Feel the land beneath your toes.  Walk, perhaps in movement meditation, for a period of time. You can combine this with energetic work.

 

Energetic work. When I do the forest walking, I like to stand a spot and envision the energies of the telluric current, those of the deep earth (envisioned in green-gold) rising up through my soles of my feet and into my body, clearing me and filling me with a sense of calm and stability.  The OBOD’s Light Body Exercise, for those that practice it, works quite well as a grounding and clearing activity.  Really, most kinds of energetic work can be good during the forest walking.

Some shagbark hickories can provide amazing grounding!

Some shagbark hickories can provide amazing grounding!

 

Weeding and Garden tending. Spending time with earthy things, like in the garden, can be extremely grounding and stabilizing. Planting, harvesting, weeding–even laying in the garden with a good book is a sure way to help do some grounding work.

 

Working with the stones. Carrying a small stone with you is a grounding activity in and of itself.  I have one that I’ve been placing above my heart if I am feeling really awful about all this stuff–I clear it once in a while by placing it in running water or sunlight, but at some point, I know I will be casting it off back into the earth permanently. This stone work is good for trauma and really deep healing.

 

Eating nurturing and nutrient-dense meals. Sometimes, when we are upset, we forget to eat.  But food has always been a grounding thing, and the more nutrient-dense and protein rich, the better.  An omelette of sausage and eggs and kale, for example, is just about as grounding as one can get!  Remember to eat.  The body and the soul both benefit.

 

Burying your feet in the earth. Similar to my earthing and forest walking, I have found great comfort in taking a shovel, digging a hole in my garden, and sticking my feet in it, covering them up with the soil. Sit there for a time in quietude, doing perhaps energetic work as well, or simply being and soaking up the sun while you sit. It works.

 

Sitting with Hardwood Nut Trees. When I am feeling ungrounded, I seek out hickory or oak trees and spend time sitting with them or hugging them. There is something about the energy of the hickory that I found extraordinarily grounding. Many of the hardwood nut trees also have this quality, as well as some others. I’m not sure I’d use a walnut, they have a bit different of an energy, like an expelling energy, which also has its own magic (but is not really well suited for this purpose). .

 

Sitting with a flock of chickens. Maybe this is just a personal thing, but I get great stability out of simply being near chickens. Chickens do many of the activities on this list, after all: dust baths, burying their feet in the earth, eating nutrient dense food, walking on the land barefoot–and they have tremendous connection to the energies of the earth. Spending time with them can be very grounding.  It is fun to watch them find bugs, peck, scratch, take dust baths–and most flocks that were raised with love will welcome your company and companionship.

 

Truthfully, as delightful as the above activities have been, I haven’t been drawn to grounding much lately–it seems like, in some ways, I am already too grounded and connected to what is happening.  Like my feet are planted so firmly that maybe I’ll just fall over if the wind comes by.  And so because of that, I have really been embracing the second druid element this year: the principle of gwyar.

Flowing, or the work of Gwyar

The element of Gwyar, often represented by water, represents the principle of fluidity and of flow.  Gwyar is the principle of change, opposite of the stability of Calas.  All things grow and change, and sometimes, we must learn to be adaptable and embrace that change.  Water teaches different lessons than the grounding of the earth–it teaches us the power of flow.  The babbling brook cascading over the stones, the water flowing off the leaves during a storm, the air flows pushing clouds and rain further across the landscape, the constant flow of time: these are all part of the power of gwyar.  Like Calas, there are times when embracing Gwyar is the right approach, and there are times when being too “go with the flow” is not the right strategy.  Questions I like to ask to determine this are:  Am I in need of letting go? Am I in need of trusting the universe to guide my path?  Am I feeling to rigid or inflexible?  Affirmative answers to these questions suggest a need to embrace Gwyar.

I have found that embracing Gwyar has been helpful for me as there are a number of things in my life, and certainly in the broader world, that are out of my immediate control. As much as I would like to control them, I am unable to do so, and attempting to exert control is only going to lead to my own suffering.  Instead, I must learn to accept these things at present, and flow with them, and the act of releasing my attempted firm hold is in itself a very powerful magical act.  And so, here are some ways to embrace the power of flow:

 

Getting on the water!

Getting on the water!

Get on the water. This summer, I bought a kayak, and have spent nearly all of my free time out on lakes and rivers, learning how to flow with the waves.  This has its own kind of healing work, but in a watery sense–rather than being firmly planted, I am learning the power of flow.  Of riding the waves, leaning into the current, anticipating–and simply moving along.  Not fighting the current. Putting up my kayak sail, and simply letting the wind and waves take me on an adventure.  Kayaks and other water vessels are easy to come by–you can rent them at many state parks or local lakes; you can also ask around and I’m sure at least 1-2 friends will have one you can borrow.  I would suggest a kayak, rowboat, or canoe for this kind of flowing work–you want to be closer to the water, as close as possible.  The other option is tubing–a lot of rivers offer a tubing option where you rent a tube, bring a cooler, and spend the next 4-6 hours floating down the stream.  This is really, really good for connecting to the principle of flow.

 

Whitewater Rafting: If you really want a more extreme version of “getting on the water,” whitewater rafting or kayaking is a good choice.  The stronger currents force you even more to get into the physical embodiment of flow and adaptability, which is a powerful spiritual lesson. In fact, the reason that this post is two days early from my normal schedule is that I am getting on the extreme waters this weekend and heading out to one of my very favorite rivers, the Youghiogheny, for some rafting!.

 

Water observations. Sitting by moving water (or even still water) can teach you a lot about flows and the importance of going with the flow. I love doing this by small streams and creeks–playing with the rocks, seeing the interplay between gwyar and calas as the water tumbles through and down the stream.  What amazes me even about still water, like lakes, is that the lakes themselves change as the weather conditions change–from choppy waters to still and clear waters–and this, too, is a powerful lesson.  As I observe the water, I think about the places in my life where I need to embrace gwyar and flow, and the places where calas is a more appropriate path.

 

Energetic work.  Similar to the work above, I have found that I can connect to the element of gywar energetically, especially at points of water or other kinds of movement or flow (a dance, for example).

 

Mindful drinking of water.  Drinking high quality water mindfully, paying attention to the taste and the feel of it as it flows, and sipping it quietly while you mediate, is another simple activity that you can do.  Try to find local spring water, if you can, for this, but any spring water or well water would do nicely!

 

Bathing.  We all need to be clean, and bathing rituals and activities can certainly help.  Even if it is simply a matter of turning your awareness for a few minutes to the flow of the shower around you, or the comfort of the tub, it can be tremendously useful for  connecting to gwyar.  I sometimes will let the water drain out of the tub as I sit within it, feeling the waters flowing around me and cleansing.

 

Getting in the mud....

Getting in the mud….

Standing and walking in the rain.  Take a walk in a rain without an umbrella (and preferably without shoes). Pay attention to how the water feels as it soaks you, flows around you.  Pay attention to how it runs down the road, down the trunk of the tree, see where it goes afterwards.  This is tremendously useful and I try to do it often!

 

Swimming in a lake or stream. Jumping in the water, and floating for a time, is a really fun way to embrace gwyar.  I have been combining this with kayaking–I kayak out to a secluded spot and then jump into the water for a bit.  It has really been great.  I’ve also been working to visit the many local swimming holes near this area!

 

Sitting with a flock of ducks.  If chickens epitomize an earthy and grounding being, the duck is a good representation of gwyar.  I like sitting with ducks a lot–they have a very different energy than chickens, and observing them can help teach the principles of flow.

 

Some Methods of Bringing Balance and Unity of Calas and Gwyar

A third possibility, of course, is that in order for equilibrium, you need both the energy of gywar and calas.  I have found that if I’m generally just so overwhelmed, feeling both ungrounded and unadaptable, the unification of these two elements in my life can really help me find my footing.  You can combine activities above together, or engage in activities that innately emphasize the unity of the two elements.  Here are a few of my favorites:

 

Playing in mud puddles. Playing in the mud should never be discounted as a fantastic method for seeking equilibrium.  We knew this well as children, but have often forgotten the most important truths as adults.  Wait for a good summer rain (it has been dry here, but I am waiting) and find a puddle in the field or abandoned dirt road somewhere–somewhere safe and clean.  And get on the oldest clothes you can, take off your shoes, and just jump in it. Or make your own mud puddle with the hose.  Make mud pies, just like when you are a kid.  This is a most healthy antidote to present day reality!

 

Natural Building. An alternative is to visit a natural building site and become one with the cob.  Natural building requires initial flow and wet materials that dry into strong structures.  Making some cob with the feet and the hands, and plastering it on there, is a great experience.

 

Frankfort Mineral Springs - Embracing Gwyar

Frankfort Mineral Springs – Embracing Gwyar

Visiting Springs.  Springs are another place where you can see the interplay and balance between gwyar and calas in a natural setting. I have been visiting springs all over Western PA since moving here a year ago. I recently went camping at Raccoon Creek State Park and had the delight of visiting the Franklin Mineral Springs while I was there. It was really a cool spring–completely unexpected–with heavy content of iron (I shared a photo of it above). It had a basin where the water flowed so cold–I dunked my head in it, soaked myself up in it, and observed the flow of this spring. It was awesome! What I have found about these natural springs is that, at least here, they really do represent the intersection of gwyar and calas–the flow interacting with the stability of the stone.  This particular spring resonated strongly with balance of the elements: the stone where the water issued forth and the basin for stability, the ever-flowing gush of the water from the stones, and the mineral content in the water itself representing the unification of the elements.

 

Stillness. Stillness of the body and of the mind is another way to embrace the intersection of gywar and calas.  We spend so much of our time running around, dashing to and fro, and never really just being present in the moment, in ourselves. After the AODA’s practices, I like to sit in stillness in nature, quiet my mind, and simply be present in the world around me. This work requires us to both physically stop moving and be more stable, but also flow into the moment and simply observe what comes. It is powerful and profound!

 

Dancing: The principle of dance is all about the intersection of the stable earth and other objects with flow, and participating in some dance yourself (even if you aren’t very good, it doesn’t matter, go do it in the forest or wild areas where nobody can see you). I like to do this with ribbons or flags or something to even more appropriately attend to the energies of flow.

 

Throwing Pots. Any art forms that encourage the intersection of calas and gwyar are useful activities for seeking equilibrium. I have found that pottery, for example, is one of the best ones (for reasons similar to natural building/cob building, above). The intersection of the water to shape the clay, and then the application of heat, offers powerful spiritual lessons and opportunities.

 

As we all navigate these difficult times, I hope that the above material will provide you with some strategies for seeking equilibrium.  Blessings upon your path and journey!

 

Lessons from the Sacred Element of Water: Seasons, Places, and Spaces November 30, 2013

In the past two years, I have done an intensive study with water as an element. My work with water began at Alban Elfed (the Fall Equinox) in 2011, when I met Thea Worthington, OBOD Modron, at the OBOD East Coast Gathering. During our interactions at the gathering and in our conversations, she gave me some powerful mentoring and suggested to me that I “embrace the chalice.”

With this, and an incredible gift of water from the Well of Danee on Iona, I began what turned out to be a two-year study of water. Since I’ve now felt the call to study a different element for a time, I wanted to share some insights about this journey, my understanding of nature throughout the seasons, and give some suggestions for those who want to engage in advanced, extended study of water. I’ll also note that for those of you who aren’t familiar with the OBOD’s Bardic Training course, the course is a wonderful introduction to studying the elements and is a good first step–I did this work years ago, so I was returning to water for a more intensive study. The work with the elements, a strong part of the druid revival tradition, is never complete–we can continually return to them and gain deeper understanding.

Ice in the Winter Months

Ice in the Winter Months

The Nature of Water

Water is expressed in three states–liquid, solid, and gas. We most often interact with it in the liquid state, but we can see representations of its three-fold nature in many things.  Its the only element that has such a nature, and this allows it to be incredibly adaptable. Its three-fold nature also allows it to interact with all of the other elements–rivers and lakes flow upon the earth, heat transforms water into its three states, and air allows for it to cycle.  One of the most basic ways of studying water is just observing and interacting with it in the natural world (and those of you familiar with permaculture design will recognize the 1st principle of permaculture at play here–observe and interact).

Water is synonymous with life. Without water, we can’t survive more than a few days–because we are, like most life on this planet, made up of mostly water. Life began in the element of water–in the primordial seas on this planet 3.8 billion or so years ago. Its the quest for water–and therefore life–that drives much of our space exploration.Water teaches us the power of adaptability, change, and flow–yet also power, persistence, and destruction. It can be as gentle as it is terrible.

 

The Nature of Water in the Seasons

Water is one of the primary vehicles of change as the wheel of the year turns.  The winter is a time when the water turns to its solid state–lakes freeze over, the water within the ground freezes, and water falls as snow, blanketing everything.  Each snowflake is a world into itself, a unique gift, the Awen of the universe expressed in minute form. The water, in its frozen state, brings about a calmness, a quietude, and a tranquility. As we go into winter, this is the time when we reflect deep within ourselves, when we too find rest. The water requires and demands this rest in its solidity.

When the spring comes, the warm rains fall, helping thaw the earth and bring forth new life. The plants uptake these waters and grow into the summer months, producing their bounty as light returns to the world.  Summer

Life in the Water

Life in the Water

storms–or droughts–mark the passing of the wheel. Humidity rises, mosquitoes come out seeking the water within each of us, the berries burst forth, and the wheel continues to turn.  Into fall, it becomes hotter and dryer, and the vegetables and fruits are harvested.  When we harvest vegetables, we must pay attention to their water content–for losing water is to lose freshness, to lose firmness, and takes much of the taste away.

By the time frosts and cold begin to once again blanket the land, water again is the agent of change. When the first frosts come, the water cells in the plants (especially the sensitive plants, such as many in the nightshade family) crystallize and then burst–this process marks the transition from liquid to solid state, and from fall to winter.  This is why the first and last frost are probably the two most important times to know when gardening–it marks the passage of the season.

 

Communing with the Spirits of Water

One of the ways that I worked with water in the last two years was by visiting many different bodies of water, communing with the spirits, and collecting water (with permission) from each of the sites.

How you find these sites is a matter of good listening and intuition–sometimes I would simply go places and see what I came across.  But I also studied maps to understand bodies of water and flow in my area, and often, I would see a place on the map I knew I needed to visit.

In communing with the spirits, I would bring an offering (bread for the fish and/or tobacco, which works very well for the spirits of this land), open up a sacred space, and then sit in quiet reflection and meditation. I found that communing works best when you are physically in the water or on its surface.  Frozen ponds work just as well as wading in the summer, but your experiences will be radically different due to the changes in the energetics of the seasons–this is something also to pay attention to.

Here’s one such example: for the last two summers, I took the hour or so drive north to Bay City State Recreation area which is on the edge of Lake Huron. I was lead to this spot initially by looking at a map. This turned out to be a perfect place to commune with the Great Lake Huron–there are a series of sandbars that go very far out into the lake and it is quite shallow. You can easily wade 500 feet or more out into the lake–so far that the shore is tiny, and you feel like you are in the middle of the lake, and nobody is anywhere near you. I’d sit in less than a foot of water out there and open up a magical space (using a modified version AODA’s solitary grove opening). And then I would wait and see what happened–and the most amazing things happened, each time I visited. I saw rainbows, butterlfiles, herons, geese, fish, and so many more things. I met the Lady of Lake Huron, who has taught me many things about the nature of water, especially in the Great Lakes region where I live. Seeking out these local water spirits, and working with them, can give you deeper insights into the nature of the element you are working with as well as the surrounding landscape.

 

Water altar

Water altar

Collecting and Honoring Water

My journeys to various watery sites and the gathering water at most of those sites has lead to quite a collection of water–from the Great Lakes Huron and Erie, from the Gulf of Mexico, the Atlantic, and the Pacific Ocean, from the Delaware Water Gap and various rivers, streams, and sacred pools.  Perhaps the most unique place I collected water was at Penn’s Cave, a water-filled cave in Western PA where you can only access it by boat.  At each location, I would spend time communing with the body of the water and then bring water back with me to put on my altar and continue to work with it.

The water altar is simple–its a series of vials with labels and other watery materials–shells, smooth stones, and the like.  I’ve always kept elemental altars in my home, but this one took on such special meaning with all of the care I put into its construction.

I worked to bring water into my life in other ways as well–I also brought water into my work environment–a small fountain, purchased used at a flea market, sits on my windowsill with my beautiful plants.

 

The Magic of Water: Healing and and Taking Journeys

The magical work of water is wide-ranging and powerful. I practiced water-based divination, where I would spend time just observing the surface of my pond or gazing into a bowl of water.  I also focused on conducting water healing rituals, such as the ritual I posted last year for our grove’s Imbolc celebration (and this one was later performed at the Pan-Druid Beltane, 2013). With each of these experiences, I documented my findings in a “water journal” which has become a source of inspiration–as well as the material for this blog post :).

Water also lends itself well to magical journeys. A while ago, I posted my reflections on the journey to the source of a river–this was one of my exercises that the spirits lead me to do while studying water, and it is a journey well worth doing.  The exercise is simple and yet profound:

1) Find a river or stream that you have a connection with.  If its too large, the journey could take a really long time, as a warning :).  The one I started with flowed through a forest and was about 10 feet across when I started.  It took about 8 hours.

We become the river.

We become the river.

2) Follow that river upstream as it gets smaller and smaller.  At each branch, take the largest branch (or follow your intuition).

3) See where the path leads you, and what insights you have.

My journey was detailed in my previous blog post…but let’s just say, I plan on taking other journeys in the near future along waterways :).

You could also do the opposite–get in a kayak, get in a small stream, and see where the water takes you!

 

Connecting with the Ancient Understandings

There are different kinds of elemental spirits and ways to commune with them–delving into the roots of esoteric wisdom and spiritual teachings in many traditions will likely give you deeper insight. For example, as part of my work with water, I studied and worked with the elemental spirits of the alchemical tradition, the Undines (and writings by Paracelsus or Manly Hall can lead you in this direction.) I started learning spagyrics (plant alchemy) recently as part of my Celtic Golden Dawn training, and these original studies ended up being fruitful in many ways.

In mythology broadly, water, water creatures, and water deities form a central role.  From the Chinese Dragon Kings who lorded over the seas in the four directions to the Scandinavian Fosse Grim, you can learn much about the nature of water in this way.

 

Understanding Water in the World Today

A study of water wouldn’t be complete without research into the challenges that the world faces concerning water. A visit to San Diego a year ago and seeing the strain on water resources and my teaching of a course in research methods with a sustainability theme prompted me to study more about the Colorado River and issues in the Southwest. More locally, I also studied threats to the Great Lakes region, which include oil pipelines, nuclear waste dumps, and Asian carp.  These lessons are important, and can help me meld my spiritual understandings with the nature and lessons of water with action in the world–especially on a local level.

 

Catching and Storing Water

One of the things I have yet to do in the realm of water is to work with it here on this land for the purposes of homesteading and growing food.  In this next year, I am planning on digging a series of swales to store water to nurture my fruit trees and possibly create some zones for growing aquatic foods (such as rice paddies for me and duckweed for the chickens). I also am looking into harvesting rainwater and finding other potable means of water (water became a big issue when I lost power a few weeks ago). These plans will represent, in many ways, the next phase of my study of water–now that I understand it on many levels, I will work with it more in my physical life.  This is part of the beauty of the path of druidry–it can manifest itself in all realms, in all ways–all we need to do is seek the connections.  I will be sure to post details of that work here as the spring comes again! 🙂

Dear blog readers, I would love to hear from you on your experiences and insights into the nature of water!

 

A Journey to the Source of a River – A Metaphor for Sustainable Action January 21, 2013

I wanted to spend some time in my blog describing a journey I took last summer to see “the source” of a river.  My work with the OBOD Druid grade initiated this journey, and it lead me to important insights about our world and how to create meaningful change in it.

 

The little crick

The little crick

Behind my parent’s house, in the forest to which I belong, is a creek (not quite a river, and not quite a stream). As children, we called it the “big crick”, and we spent much time on its banks, watching it flow over rocks, moss, and between hemlocks, beeches, and maple trees.  This creek was located in the  Appalachian mountains in West-Central PA, and unfortunately, the forest has been logged repeatedly, damaging the land in numerous ways.  And yet, damaged, logged, and repeatedly violated, the spirit of the land is strong and has much to teach.

 

I set out on a journey to find “the source” of this river. I had a vision of what the source of the river looked like—it was tranquil with moss-covered stones. I had no idea how long it would take me, but I planned for being out the whole day and took food, drink, and a friend along for company. It ended up being about a 10 mile hike through the forest—and not just any forest, but forest that had been logged and otherwise terribly mistreated, so the going was slow. I went deeper into the forest than I ever had before, following the river.  I saw a rare flower, which I discussed briefly in an earlier blog post. Each time it branched, I took the largest of the branches, continuing to work my way up the river, watching the river grow smaller. When I finally found the source of the river, of the largest branch, it was exactly as my inner vision had showed me—three branching streams, with the largest beginning in a spring with moss-covered stones. I sat there in meditation, and there, I had a meaningful vision. This was the message of my vision, and I know its something that I need to share with others:

 

When you follow a river to its source, follow the water’s path upstream and take the largest of the tributaries each time the river splits. This gives you a unique perspective, in that you can witness how the river, at its current size, is built of smaller tributaries.  These tributaries, some permanent springs and other rain gullies and other seasonal contributors, aren’t just part of the river—they are the river.  If you follow the river to its source, you will learn that each river starts off as a tiny stream or freshwater spring; the river only later grows larger as other tributaries feed into it. Each one of us is that stream; each one of us has the potential of that spring that starts the river off.  It is only through the power of others, flowing together in unison, that we can be a river. The strength of a great river cannot be ignored—it shapes the landscape around it and brings significant change. We must unite, have a shared vision, and be that river.

 

The “Big Crick” is otherwise known as “Otto Run” and is located in Western Pennsylvania behind my parent’s home. This river has particular significance in expanding the general metaphor, so I’ll describe it here. Otto Run flows into the Little Conemaugh, which is a river of historical importance in my region’s history. The Little Conemaugh was once dammed up in the 1800’s, and in 1889 after severe rains and equally severe mismanagement of the dam, the dam burst and the resulting wave of water killed almost 3000 people in Johnstown, PA.  This in itself has many lessons to teach us, including the importance of working with nature, rather than trying to tame her and bend her to one’s own will; she may resist such taming and break free.

 

The Little Conemaugh flows into the Conemaugh which flows into the Allegheny, which meets in Pittsburgh, PA with the Monogahela to form the Ohio. The Ohio leads right into the Mississippi river, one of the largest and most important rivers in the USA. Each of these rivers, with their many tributaries, creates the mighty Mississippi.  And as our recent series of floods in 2011 and droughts in 2012 have demonstrated, despite the best efforts of many humans, the Mississippi cannot be tamed.  This too, is a lesson for us.  In these difficult times of struggle and environmental challenges, we must look to the lesson that the river teaches us.  Each of us is that tributary, and by flowing in unison, we become as strong as the Mississippi.  And nobody can stop the Mississippi.

 

So friends, remember the lesson of the river.  United, we are strong.  United, we can change this world into a better, more sustainable place.