I Myself Water


I am a molecule of water. My existence spans the ages, I have changed forms many times. I’ve been liquid dinosaur pee, solid glacial ice, and gaseous water vapor that when refracted with sunlight creates a radiant rainbow.

With each cycle of my watery self, I take a new path and experience my reality in a different way. My journey begins the same every time—I fall from the sky. Sometimes I am a gentle raindrop, other times I am a hard and destructive ball of hail. The many facets of my unique body are revealed when I fall as an intricate snowflake.

Sometimes I land on the top of a mountain, other times I land in the cement jungle of a city. Where I fall in a large part determines my path, or where I flow. Sometimes I don’t flow at all and stay in the same place for a long time. Time seems to freeze as I embody my glacial self.

On this iteration of my existence, I find myself flowing in a mighty river surrounded by billions of water molecule companions. I fell not far from the banks of this beautiful river and I quickly joined my fellow molecules in a forceful flow that cuts through the land. I am surprised and impressed with the ease and speed at which I can travel.

My current river self seems fairly clean. Clean, cold, and rapid…this is my kind of flow! I am spring runoff from the mountains. I decide that I wouldn’t mind flowing this way all the time. I can see why so many of my H2O brothers and sisters keep joining me. Life is good!

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, my reality starts shifting. My speed decreases and I realize that I’m warming up and becoming more polluted with each passing moment. I am starting to feel a little claustrophobic in the river. Maybe I’m not in a river anymore? My salinity informs me that I haven’t reached the ocean yet. What is going on? What’s the hold up?

I conclude that something must be blocking my flow. I push forward with the intention of finding the source of the blockage. As I make my way through the stagnant reservoir, I see the river banks becoming bloated with bounty, swallowing up the wealth of water inundating their surface. My water self is stuck. I want to keep flowing forward, to maintain my course and deliver the wealth of my water to the ecosystem of the sea, but the river artery is clogged.

I begin to see my fellow water molecules’ vitality fading. I see them evaporate too soon, disappearing into the air far too early. Other parts seem content in the dormancy. Seeing the sad state of my stagnant system drives me forward even harder.

Each day I push myself forward and search for the obstruction to my natural flow. My search is driven by my passion and my perseverance. My persistence pays off one day when I hit a hard surface head on. It was so big that I didn’t even see it coming. “Damn!” I exclaim.

What the hell? I have hit something like a huge rock. I have never experienced this before. My intuition tells me this isn’t a rock, it is totally uniform. I decide to call it a dam since that is the first word that popped into my mind. Yes!!! I have found it. I found the dam obstruction, now how do I make it go away?

My new obsession has become this massive dam. I push myself against it day in and day out. I try to rally my fellow water molecules to push with me, but it seems useless. My water molecule crew has grown apathetic to the obstruction, as if this ridiculous dam reality is just fine. I disagree; I have been around the water wheel enough times to know that this dam isn’t natural.

I push my body and mind against the hard construct of the dam but only end up wearing myself out. Not knowing what else to do, I relax and consider why I am so intent on flowing again. I think of where I was flowing to—the great body of water known as the ocean. When I think of being surrounded by the salty fluid of the sea I feel at ease, joining the ocean feels like coming home to me. Once at home, I’m no longer bound to flow downward because my ocean moves with the moon; I twist with the ebb and flow of the tides.

In my contemplation, I feel the pull of the ocean on my molecular body. With my intuition, I feel the pull of my natural self. I feel the lunar tide moving within me.

I find myself experiencing reality from a different perspective. I feel my entire fractal unfolding in front of me. I see how I am connected to all the water in the universe. I was identifying more as a separate water molecule than as a unified body of water. Now I can see with clarity that my world is not divided at all, but rather fundamentally connected. My inner vibration resonates with all the other water molecules around me. I am an individual molecule as well as the whole fluid. Just as I can feel the water of the great ocean, I can now also feel the water that flowed through the workers while building the dam. I am the water behind the creation of my own obstruction.

Then it happens—I suddenly feel a presence coming from inside the dam. It is like a whisper; muted, but audible if I listen closely. I’m listening with intent, and I now realize that it is not one voice, but many. They are the voices of my fellow water molecules who are trapped in the cement, frozen inside the massive wall. I can just make out what they are saying, it seems they are directing me to a weak point in the cement. I follow their guidance and find a tiny crack right in the middle of the massive obstruction.

I push with all my molecular might until I find myself inside the dam. Ha! This is it! I’m on the inside. I wiggle deeper into the dam, squeezing into the microscopic crack. Once inside, I become still. I am in a crack so tight that there is barely any room for movement. No more bashing around attempting to break down the dam. The dam is unyielding. Now that I am inside the wall I can’t generate momentum; I feel trapped. Part of me just wants to abort my mission and flee back into the safe reservoir of my open water, but I realize that I can’t do anything to help myself if I just hide behind the other molecules of my mass. I need to do something!

I calm myself, settling into a deep meditation in the center of the dam. I become still and set my intention to free myself from this dammed up construct. My stillness, combined with the biting temperature of this particularly cold night, causes my structure to become frozen. As I freeze, my form expands. My hydrogen bonds have an amazing amount of power in my new frozen form.

As I expand, the crack I am lodged in grows ever so slightly, but it is enough to force a few of my water molecule friends to slip in next to me. Soon they too freeze, causing even more expansion, and the crack grows larger.

The next morning, as the rising sun warms the concrete wall, I melt and become fluid again. I feel the weight of the whole reservoir behind me, and with this mass pushing me, I burst through the other side of the dam into the light. Once this occurs, it is over for the rigid dam construct. My water has its way with the cement and all that is left is a pile of rubble. My water body charges down the narrow canyon, cleansing and clearing as I flow.

I am water. Connecting with my cycles has helped me see that I too can be hard and rigid like the dam, or yielding and flowing like the water behind it. By seeing my greater connection, I have set myself free.

By finding stillness and reconnecting with my lunar nature, I come into communication with my intuition and figure out how to break through limiting old constructs that block my natural flow.


From I’m Calling Myself Out


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