A river has a constant ebb and flow of movement. It seems to trick us into believing that it is always there as we watch and yet at every moment it is new, giving rise to a great source of exploration and of discovery; a source of knowledge as it speaks.
The river fires my imagination as I follow it, walk in it, look under stones and drift my fingers within it. It gives me a strong sense of freedom.
From rain to the river, to the sea and back to rain.
When it rains I hear melodic drum beats and witness rebirth as the river forms once again from the source. Does everything always return, like leaves on the trees after winter?
It feels as if there are a thousand eyes looking out from the soul of the earth, existing only in the present and with a thousand different voices repeating the same mantra, 'one.' It is of water, of creature, of earth.
The source it seems is the beginning and the end, playing with time, the old becoming the new, the new disappearing into the old and yet only existing in the present.
top image made in Cuckmere Haven, UK
bottom image made in Check Republic
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