Sitting on a large rock at water’s edge I relaxed to the sound of the Little Pigeon River, tumbling down a small cascade forty yards in front of me and then dispersing into deep pockets. Aqua green and darker shades intermingled, distinguished by the water pocket’s depth and proximity to the rapids. After a six mile hike I had settled down to relax among the roar of water that is both pleasant to the senses and loud enough to drown out footsteps and sometimes voices. I tuned in to the river.
The beauty is always here, mostly undisturbed, waiting to be discovered. During nighttime hours when the day hike guests are gone it still flows, serenading a different set of admirers among the wildlife. I have to wonder if the loud screams of night crawlers and other creatures of the night manage to be heard among such an all-encompassing sound that fills in all the quiet places and mental gaps of nature’s other musicians, along with soothing life’s weights.
The river is content if no one ever notices because she is living by design. No regrets, and she’s okay with going it alone if need be.
River rocks are smooth from a lifetime of being sculpted, one cascade of flowing water at a time, into their current form. You know it’s a river rock. Take them out of the water and with a quick glance, or perhaps a touch, you can tell because the look takes time and dedication to create. Colors and shapes may differ, but they’re all beautiful and a crafted work of art. Like people. Gentle touches and inspiration, added day in and day out, shows on a person after a while.
Reflections on the water’s surface float overhead and paint an image below on those resting underneath the surface, catching their breath. Like a gentle hand covering and protecting. It’s a gentle reminder of where you came from, the beauty it extends, and how we fit into a master plan. The scene would be missing a piece of the puzzle without any one of us.