The Weight of Water

I keep a smooth, grey river stone on my desk, worn down by years of current until it fits perfectly into the palm of my hand. It is a heavy, silent thing, yet it holds the memory of a thousand miles of travel. We often think of time as a series of sharp, ticking moments, but perhaps it is more like the river—a constant, fluid motion that eventually rounds off our edges and softens the hardest parts of our history. We are all being shaped by the things that flow past us, the invisible pressures that we cannot see but can certainly feel. To stand still while everything else moves is a rare kind of courage. It is the act of witnessing the passage of years without trying to hold onto the water itself. If we could learn to trust the current, would we finally stop fearing the things we are destined to lose? Or is the beauty found only in the way the water leaves us behind?

Silvia Bukovac Gasevic has captured this feeling of eternal motion in her beautiful image titled By the River. It reminds me that even the most restless waters eventually find a way to rest. Does this stillness make you feel anchored, or does it make you want to drift away?