The River

The river is always there. It is the place from which we come and to which we will return. It is that which is in constant motion but never really changes. It is the source, the digit preceding zero, that which is found before the beginning, that which allows everything to begin. Everything rushes forth from it and yearns to return to it. It is truth. It is the fundamental nature of all. Everything is found in it and it is found in everything. 


Nothing can darken it, nothing can empty it of its life or beauty, and nothing can extinguish it. It is there by virtue of its being. It is the nature of all things. 


We’ve been taught that things take a specific form. We’ve been taught that all things must end. That there is no choice in the matter and we’ll have to make do. 


We’ve been told that a responsible person knows that he is responsible for maintaining things as they are, for ensuring that they continue to be that way. 


We’ve learned that a responsible person knows that what he cannot see or understand does not truly exist. We’ve learned that the only thing that is real is that which the senses and mind can grasp. That relying on anything other than this will cause us great pain and come at a heavy cost; that it is irresponsible and must be vehemently avoided. 


The mind doesn’t know what to do with the river. The river is not tangible in the eyes of the mind. It has no substance, no dimensions and no boundaries. It contains nothing and does not end. It has no name and cannot be proven. From the perspective of the mind, it does not exist. 

If we insist that it does exist, if we move through this world from inside of it, if our confidence stems from knowing that the river is always there and that there is no price and that nothing really ends, our path will guided by ease, simplicity, a wisdom that is both exalted and grounded, silence, beauty and love. They will radiate, rejoice and remind us of our true nature, wherever we go. 

Many of us have learned to be afraid of it; to view it as something that will destroy the very order and clarity that the mind has tempted us into believing it can give. We might consider those who know the river to be eccentric. We might think that the river is depression, insanity or death, an escape from reality. Something outside of life. 


This is the power of the mind, a power that began the moment we named it judge and arbitrator of fates. The anointed mind cannot be defeated. We cannot overcome it or escape from it. We can just wake up from it. Wake up and know the river that is us.