To some a fantasy world,
A place of unrestrained fancy, floating between real and imagined.
All senses bouncing back and forth in a state of heightened awareness.
Peculiar in the sense that a visit to the same waterfall can produce a different experience from the last.
The sounds of the rushing water are magnified. To be so lucky and hear no laughter, no squealing children’s voices, no conversations, and it is almost as if the water is speaking, calling to you louder and louder.
A musky and stagnant smell of the earth’s dirt, enhanced by moss, and lichens permeates the air as you climb higher and higher towards the waterfall, then slowly changing to a crisp, clean and refreshingly pure smell as you approach the water.
The water itself flexible in its movements, careening slowly and waywardly on the path that it chooses. In places foaming and bubbling and sparkling and charging as if it making decisions while churning as to which way to turn.
A series of crescendos, as if a song and the playing of the passage that is gradually building and building until it finally falls. Just as life, a series of crescendos sometimes connected and sometimes not. Just as life, flexible, careening, waywardly making your way. Ups and downs, even some crashing down at points, but always continuing to flow. Continuing to flow, but ever changing. Is it possible that it takes you fifty years to understand this process? Never understanding it all, but just understanding the process.
A toast to fifty and the knowledge gained through the years and a toast to the fantasy world of waterfalls. I must wonder at what age Leonardo da Vinci penned the following passage? Clearly he understood the comparison of flowing water to life.
Water is sometimes sharp and sometimes strong, sometimes acid and sometimes bitter, sometimes sweet and sometimes thick or thin, sometimes it is seen bringing hurt or pestilence, sometime health-giving, sometimes poisonous. It suffers change into as many natures as are the different places through which it passes. And as the mirror changes with the colour of its subject, so it alters with the nature of the place, becoming noisome, laxative, astringent, sulfurous, salty, incarnadined, mournful, raging, angry, red, yellow, green, black, blue, greasy, fat or slim. Sometimes it starts a conflagration, sometimes it extinguishes one; is warm and is cold, carries away or sets down, hollows out or builds up, tears or establishes, fills or empties, raises itself or burrows down, speeds or is still; is the cause at times of life or death, or increase or privation, nourishes at times and at others does the contrary; at times has a tang, at times is without savor, sometimes submerging the valleys with great floods. In time and with water, everything changes. Leonardo da Vinci