My Righteousness? A Feeble Plea!
A Prayer for the Day After Violent News

River Walk

A waklk aong the river

One day, in the spring or fall, I really can't remember which, I veered off the more traveled path and took a walk. I walked down the hill from pavement to gravel to dirt to grass until I came to water.

It would be good to know when it was. I have my photos and faded memories to remind me that it happened at all.

Would it really matter to know the details?

I had my camera to record my impressions.

It was a good day.

A pastoral, poetic day. It was a day to remember in a sea of forgetfulness.

I walked along the river that day. That much I know. That much I imprinted on my mind.

Of what did I think? I do not think I know but I think I thought. At least I thought that I was thinking and since I was, I must have been. "I think; therefor, I am" or "I thought; therefore I was," or both or and.

Such was and is my thinking about my thinking and walking and beholding that day.

I need more such days. Perhaps I shall take you along next time or you can take me and we can walk and talk along the river.

I do know where it was. I, at least remember that. I had been there before and I have been there since and I could get there again, even with you.

It is a good place to think as I recall and a better place to be.

It was in the city; it still is. And yet, it is aside from the city and removed from the noise, though some gets through.

It is out of the line of vision of the freeways and high rises, though they are very close and from them there are glimpses.

But is is nothing like the surprise of being there, up close, following the meandering path which traces the river's course without the delusion of human design.

The river insists on being wild no matter how hard we try, and we have tried, to tame it. It insists on flowing though it has been dammed. It has not been damned. Not, not, not. It flows still.

There is life in there. It is life that does not know the difference between urban and rural. It does not suspect that the asphalt world has encroached so profoundly upon its surroundings. The life of the river just lives, oblivious to the city.

For a moment, I was equally unaware and it was bliss.

It is good to go to the river and walk alongside it.

I walked and we kept each other company for a while, whatever season it was and whatever year.