Ponds and Rivers ~ Blue Water – Part 1

Greetings Dear Reader,

I have always loved the water.  Rivers, lakes, and oceans all call to me it different ways.  Some bodies of water linger in my memory as the staging of significant life events.  Really blue water enthralls me.

In north Georgia there is a farm.  I used to often go swimming at that farm in the clear, stream-fed pond that served as both a cooling station for boys and an evening fishing hole for my Grandfather.  I am sure I spent less time there than my memory declares.  I am sure it was not as clean and beautiful then as I recall. 

Then there was the day that I revisited the pond.  I was older and searching for a toehold in my past to unfold my future.  Returning to the place for the first time in over a decade I ran through the memories and emotions associated with my family, summer, and the life I was building.  I had my boardies and was sure a cool swim in that water in late summer would give me direction. 

No one knew where I was going and the drive through north Georgia in my yellow beetle did much to build my excitement and optimism.  I pulled up to the foot of the hill that let up to the high pasture, parked, and changed into my boardies.  My urge was to run the final distance to the water and simply jump in.

I chose instead to take it all in; to move solely and savor each moment.  I could see the railing of the old dock.  Across the pond I could see the stairway the led back up to the dock from the deep water.  It was low enough in August that one needed to get right up to the edge to see the water.  It was also deep enough even low it was a great place for jumping and diving.

Then I saw the water.  The blue of it was so very beautiful.  It was that deep azure that plays at shifting shades as the sun plays on it.  The moment seemed to stretch on for hours.  The heat of summer and the buzzing dragonflies urged me to dive into the cool refreshing memories of my youth.  The water called me like a siren to my death. 

You see that water should not have been blue.  What I was seeing in the clear clean pond of my youth was a bloom of blue algae.  It was there dancing with sun and shade, enticing me to take in how very lovely it is and ignore its danger.  This pond had somehow become stagnant.  Somehow the flow in and out had slowed to the point that the sweetness had soured.    

I wept over things in my past I had long kept buried.  I realized that I needed to move on to the next place I was meant to live.  It would not be until last week that the true lesson of that day would find me.  You see we can think that the place in which we are stuck is beautiful and filled with good memories.  The beautiful blue waters of our repose can, however, kill us. 

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn

Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a home owner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”

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