Sunday, July 31, 2011
Saturday, July 16, 2011
She follows the path of least resistance. She doesn't care to see the mountain top.
She twists and turns with no regard to distance. She never comes to a stop.
And she rolls, she's a river. Where she goes, time will tell.
Heaven knows, he can't go with her, And she rolls, all by herself
He's headed for a single destination. He doesn't care what's standing in his path.
He's a line between two points of separation. He ends just where it says to on the map.
And he rolls, he's a highway. Where he goes, time will tell.
Heaven knows, she can't go with him, And he rolls, all by himself
And every now and then, he offers her a shoulder
And every now and then, she overflows
And every now and then, a bridge crosses over
It's a moment every lover knows
And she rolls (and he rolls)
She's a river (he's a highway)
Where she goes (where he goes)
Time will tell (Time will tell)
Heaven knows she can't go with him (he can't go with her)
And she rolls all by herself
And he rolls all by himself
Fare thee well
I think it's funny that a song I've listened to and liked since I was a teenager could mean so much to me now and describe our relationship so well. Even funnier that it would so accurately describe my Taoist leanings, before I even knew what Taoism was.
Be like water.
Monday, July 4, 2011
The Burning Hut
The only survivor of a shipwreck washed up on a small, uninhabited island. He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him, and every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming. Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect him from the elements, and to store his few possessions. But then one day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, the smoke rolling up to the sky. The worst had happened; everything was lost. He was stung with grief and anger. “God, how could you do this to me!” he cried.
Early the next day, however, he was awakened by the sound of a ship that was approaching the island. It had come to rescue him. “How did you know I was here?” asked the weary man of his rescuers.
“We saw your smoke signal,” they replied.
This is what I would call a silver lining story. Conveying that even in the darkest hour, they may be something good that will come of it. I don't see this as a reason to celebrate a tragedy, far from it. But I have been longing for a message on how to keep hope alive through repeated failure, and this little story gave me my answer. I will remember as my hut is burning, that it may just be the smoke signal that brings my rescue.