Swim much?

Dear Teacher,

You've heard about how life is described as a current, I'm sure. About how things become mechanical, rote almost. We do it because it's the way it's done. We bob along the current. The river rushes and it takes us where it wants to go, and quickly too. We don't question it.

Today I had a certain thought. Which is rare, so pay attention. I would very much appreciate your two cents worth. What if, just what if, the river stops? It comes to halt and a strange stillness comes over it, over me. What would I do?



Would I know what to do? Where to go? Will I swim, or will I simply float? Where do I swim to? In what direction? Would I even know which is which-upstream, downstream?

I think I sort of have an idea. I definitely want to swim. The only reason I won't is if I don't know where to swim to. But I see some vague directions. It's not very exact yet, but I know the area. It's more upstream. That's where I have to swim towards, even before the current seizes. While it rushes downstream according to its natural order, I swim against it, a little unnaturally.

Like salmon.


Just keep swimming,
Twisty