I consider myself a non-believer; I don’t subscribe to any god, religion or political party. A person said to me, “I couldn’t do that. I have to believe in something.” This was someone I don’t know or don’t remember, or someone I do know and don’t remember. Which means, I’ve heard all that shit before and it doesn’t work on me. But today I realized, I do believe in something - something present and real. I believe in water.
Yesterday, I had control over the water in my life - in the extreme. I turned a handle and remarkably clean, potable water issued forth for whatever purpose I desired. Coffee. Without water, there is no coffee. Cleanliness. There isn’t a part of my body water hasn’t touched. Survival. I stand here hydrated and happy I’ve never had cholera. Recreation. Bubbles, glass of wine, water and me. I can surely say I didn’t even think about it. Water slipped seamlessly into my everyday life - a quiet unassuming background player.
Today I still control water, but it isn’t the same. Today water reminded me - which is silly to say, since water has no memory - where the control actually lies. I didn’t argue; turns out water can be quite persuasive, but not deliberately so. It commits blameless crimes, which tear at the comfort of being able to point to someone...anyone. But water is no one: it has no heart, no love; it doesn’t hate or exact revenge; it doesn’t care...at all. Which after today, I find very comforting. Because if it did care, we wouldn’t stand a chance. It could oblige us, sustain us and go along with our whims - all the while lulling us. When we’re content and unaware, it could decide to destroy us. Victory would not be ours friends, not with 10,000 men. It would be folly. At the very least it could make us late for work; halt production of Oregon burritos on State Street; deprive our students another day of instruction.
Water is greater than me. I believe in it. I need water in my life. I have a personal relationship with water. Luckily for me I can see it. Luckily for me it is not vengeful or jealous. It does not require any faith in impossible improbabilities. I’m a believer after all. And I give thanks this day that water does not believe in me.
Yesterday, I had control over the water in my life - in the extreme. I turned a handle and remarkably clean, potable water issued forth for whatever purpose I desired. Coffee. Without water, there is no coffee. Cleanliness. There isn’t a part of my body water hasn’t touched. Survival. I stand here hydrated and happy I’ve never had cholera. Recreation. Bubbles, glass of wine, water and me. I can surely say I didn’t even think about it. Water slipped seamlessly into my everyday life - a quiet unassuming background player.
Today I still control water, but it isn’t the same. Today water reminded me - which is silly to say, since water has no memory - where the control actually lies. I didn’t argue; turns out water can be quite persuasive, but not deliberately so. It commits blameless crimes, which tear at the comfort of being able to point to someone...anyone. But water is no one: it has no heart, no love; it doesn’t hate or exact revenge; it doesn’t care...at all. Which after today, I find very comforting. Because if it did care, we wouldn’t stand a chance. It could oblige us, sustain us and go along with our whims - all the while lulling us. When we’re content and unaware, it could decide to destroy us. Victory would not be ours friends, not with 10,000 men. It would be folly. At the very least it could make us late for work; halt production of Oregon burritos on State Street; deprive our students another day of instruction.
Water is greater than me. I believe in it. I need water in my life. I have a personal relationship with water. Luckily for me I can see it. Luckily for me it is not vengeful or jealous. It does not require any faith in impossible improbabilities. I’m a believer after all. And I give thanks this day that water does not believe in me.
