Saturday, February 13, 2010

The River

This time my muse was River, by Garth Brooks. Melancholy was piqued and that compelled me to write. Journaling is one of the ways God leads me back to joy and a sense of well-being. I was returning from my second trip to the neurologist, and wanted to pull to the shoulder of Interstate 77 and pen my thoughts about dreams.

Listening to Garth's lyrics raised the question, "Do dreamers carry the dream - or - Do dreams carry the dreamer." Trying to speak for everyone is almost always a mistake, but I don't know how anyone can live without a dream to carry them, or without carrying a dream - be they whimsical, futuristic, or even broken and thwarted.

Brook's metaphors are insightful and they resonate . . .

Summers mean that I get to spend a few days living on a river in Maine. Many times its churning currents have carried me and my dreams from northern points downstream to the south. Sometimes the vessel that carried me was a black wetsuit. Fins, a snorkel, and mask allowed me to navigate, breathe, and see the boulder strewn underside of the river. Bouncing off underwater obstacles, or getting swirled onto the gravely shore was a real possibility.

Most times a kayak kept me gliding across the river's surface. Either way - and regardless the vessel - to explore the Penobscot's hidden beauty you have to struggle against its collaboration with gravity. Propulsion through its tea-colored water with webbed feet, or digging paddles into its liquid skin are my only options to discover its secrets unless I have no higher goal than to drift, releasing my will to the river's single purpose - to make its way as quickly as it can to the Atlantic Ocean.

Striking sceneries, romantic imaginations, and mystical sensations are for those who break away from the main flow, but nature's sentries - fallen logs, sand bars, and branches that claw at all who enter - guard the entrance to meandering cuts and coves shy to reveal their beauty.

Never once have I met someone exploring those hard to get to places . . .

You know a dream is like a river
Ever changin' as it flows

And a dreamer's just a vessel

That must follow where it goes

Trying to learn from what's behind you

And never knowing what's in store

Makes each day a constant battle

Just to stay between the shores...

I will sail my vessel 'Til the river runs dry
Like a bird upon the wind
These waters are my sky

I'll never reach my destination

If I never try
So I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry

Too many times we stand aside

And let the waters slip away

'Til what we put off 'til tomorrow

Has now become today

So don't you sit upon the shoreline

And say you're satisfied
Choose to chance the rapids

And dare to dance the tide...


There's bound to be rough waters
And I know I'll take some falls
But with the good Lord as my captain

I can make it through them all...

I will sail my vessel 'Til the river runs dry
Like a bird upon the wind
These waters are my sky

I'll never reach my destination

If I never try

So I will sail my vessel 'Til the river runs dry

(The River, by Garth Brooks)

I choose to be a dreamer . . . To learn from what's behind me . . . Not to fear what's in store. Not one who lets the waters slip by . . . I choose to chance the rapids and dare to dance the tides. Not pretend I am satisfied . . . I can make it through it all. I will not let my river run dry. I will carry dreams . . . dreams will carry me. I know the Dream Giver . . .

1 comment:

  1. Bill,I always enjoy your writing so much and it reminds me how much I miss your preaching. I believe our dreams are a special part of us...unique to us. This reminds me of one of my favorite books "The Dream Giver." Keep writing...and I'll keep reading! Give my love to Sandy. We sure miss you guys!