There is much to be learned from a river.

The river has always been a meditative place for me. The flow quiets my mind; I lose track of time watching light play on the surface of the water, how the current works its way over stone, strokes the flanks of the river’s bank, smooths all the edges.

I read Siddhartha many, many years ago and I suspect it is one of those books that has infused itself into my perspective. Even before that, though, I can remember standing by a river as a child and feeling comforted by the way it was both consistent and constantly changing.

What strikes me today is that Siddhartha found himself at the river not because he had found some peace but because he had reached his darkest hour; he did not find himself at the river again because he had discovered his purpose, he found himself there because he was lost.

Siddhartha said, Perhaps…in all that searching, you lose the way to find?

How come? asked his companion.

“When someone is searching,” said Siddhartha, “then it might easily happen that the only thing his eyes still see is that what he searches for, that he is unable to find anything, to let anything enter his mind, because he always thinks of nothing but the object of his search, because he has a goal, because he is obsessed by the goal. Searching means: having a goal. But finding means: being free, being open, having no goal. You, oh venerable one, are perhaps indeed a searcher, because, striving for your goal, there are many things you don’t see, which are directly in front of your eyes.”

And when Siddhartha listened “attentively to this river, this song of a thousand voices, when he neither listened to the suffering nor the laughter, when he did not tie his soul to any particular voice and submerged his self into it…when he heard them all, (he) perceived the whole…”

This posting is a contribution to Sacred Life Sundays, the practice of sharing what lifts our spirits with others on a weekly basis.