The River

This will be my last post from the reflective, spiritual writing workshop I went to this year (see Well-come and A Conversation with Myself). The second day of the workshop, we focused on the water image of a river. The river evokes many nuances and directions: the image of movement and journey, many streams feeding into a river, the varied ways rivers flow due to rocks and plant life, different speeds like rapids or gently moving. In addition, all rivers flow toward unity with the ocean - another lovely image for God. We were given a list of sentences as prompts. I have been struggling with chronic migraines for a year, so I adpated one of their prompts to form this question, "Where is the current of migraines taking me?" What follows is my response to this reflective prompt: 

When I resist migraines with a mighty effort, the pain worsens, the process lengthens. The body wants relief, rest, release – to flow with ease down the River of God rather than being assaulted by every stone, tree, log, or boulder. Can I just float past these obstacles and distractions? Can I acknowledge they exist, but feel no need to pick them, take them into my raft, my heart and soul? I am not the Source; all belongs to the River. I am a drop with an over-blown sense of responsibility for what does not belong to me. "Give back what belongs to me," the River beckons, "and float along your merry way." I am no one else's life raft. When I get caught on someone else's snag, I might miss what is in store for me – joyful rapids, swirling fun, splashing play, and oneness with the great ocean of God. I keep my hands and mind to myself, tending to my own raft, embracing God's river dance for me.

 Photo taken on my phone.