Still Water
2021

I stood alone before this perfectly calm lake, so calm I believed I could observe the natural arc on the sphere it resides upon. And the reflections of the surrounding wilderness were as undistorted as if viewing them directly through the atmosphere.

I was compelled, by unarticulatable promptings deep in the soul, to enter its volume to escape the daily daggers of noise and tumult that relentlessly circle and lunge at me away from this temporary slice of tranquility. To find peace by being immersed/embraced in a fluid that is both life giving and life taking. A fluid that when in motion is unstoppable; and when still, stops time.

I enter it, feel the temporary bite of thermal shock, and proceed to move deeper and deeper to where all but my head is completely immersed. I stand perfectly still so as to not create the slightest ripple as I watch the ripples from my initial motion radiate outward and decay into entropy across the surface, until the initial pristine stillness has once again returned. This time I was one with it, or should I say it was one with me? A solitary baptism with nature.

In this temporary moment of perfect stillness and peace, an intense yet soothing sensation built up inside me. Then silently I wish to myself: If only this soothing peace could persist indefinitely! But alas, this kind of wish is a hopeless fantasy, an unrealistic whimsical folly. As I then come to the inescapable realization that it's temporary, it's all temporary, everything: the noise, tumult and moments of peace, all of it, no exceptions.

One could cry in hostile rage at the universe that it should be so, or one can invoke noble serenity in all the temporary moments, remember and embrace them for what they are, and for what you may learn from them all. For I've come to believe: Those who live to learn, learn to live.

And always remember, the Stoics had it right; for in the end: memento mori, memento mori!

To this lake of peace I say as I depart: 'til we meet gain, 'til we meet gain.