Sometimes, as we have seen in the news last week, water becomes a destructive force capable of taking the very life it sustains. In its physical state, water has to flow, and while we might not be able to see them on our island, in many parts of the world, water flows through rivers.
The river carves its way in the earth. Like a gifted sculptor, it crumbles the earth and constantly forms pathways for itself. Rivers carry all kinds of things in their path: earth, stones, wood, and everything human beings throw into them.
Our story as human beings is intimately tied to that of rivers. The river is indeed within us, according to a phrase by T.S. Eliot in The Dry Salvages. There is one particular property of rivers that echoes in the depths of our stories, which is the river’s capacity to deposit all kinds of things along its banks.
While the water flows down at a faster rate on its outer banks, it pushes the things it carries towards its inner banks, otherwise known as river scrolls. Where the river slows down, it forms crescent-shaped ridges that resemble lines of writing. These scrolls become layered with the heavier and denser objects that slowly get deposited.
Life can either flourish or become a swamp, depending on what settled on the bank
These river scrolls tell a story. They speak of what was carried forth downstream. Despite the rushing gushes of water, any dense object settles down and leaves a mark. Isn’t this an eloquent symbol of our inner life? While we fret about with our daily tasks, keeping up with life’s rhythms and obligations, some moments, experiences and emotions settle on our heart’s banks. As we know from experience, what is most meaningful always stays and becomes deposited more permanently in our heart.
All kinds of things get deposited. A deep hug from the people we love, a significant word from the scriptures that speaks to our heart, a glimpse of beauty in nature or art. They all get deposited. Even the tiniest of stones become mounds large enough to divert the river’s movement.
In the same manner, even a traumatic experience or a deep hurt can become deposited, and in subtle ways start to impact the flow of our inner journey. Along the same river banks, we sometimes sing hymns of joy and gratitude, and at other times mourn and weep at our losses, when we find ourselves far from our human and spiritual homeland.
The larger these river scrolls become, the more influence they have on the flow of the river. What we deposit at banks of our heart becomes a dominant narrative that starts to have a say in our life. Along these banks, life can either flourish or become a swamp, depending on what settled on the bank.
In this sense, like in many spiritual traditions, these scrolls become sacred grounds. Nothing is wasted from that which the river carries along its path, just like no life event is futile but constantly adds a layer to our story, which we are constantly called to embrace.
The river is within us, and its banks are scrolls that tell a story; a story that is sacred and at the same time very mysterious. In this long and winding path of life, these deposits are more than just relics. They become our resting place and a nourishment for our heart.