Another View

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Isn't everything a matter of perspective? I stood on a bridge, looked down and noticed the pattern. Perhaps someone who understood marine biology, or someone who imagined swimming in this water, or someone in a rush—well, they might see something else.

Today I took part in a water communion . Each participant brought in a small vial of water. People wrote comments about their water—where it came from and why it had meaning. As we walked up and added water to the bowl, the minister read one of the writings. I poured my Maine water out and heard about a stream in West Virginia. All the waters joined together. Streams and brooks in Vermont washed up on the shore of Puget Sound, water from a backyard dripped into the rain-forest water. The quiet water from a sleepy pond joined a tumultuous wave.

I imagined a chorus of voices, a choir of languages, a symphony of blending.