When the land is thirsty, so am I. When it is quenched, I am too. What happens to the land for miles around goes straight into my body, since my water lies right below.
Your writing always seems to make me feel like I’m outdoors. Hint of ponderosa, tangy notes of moss, with a smooth robin wing finish. Thank you, Barbara.
You say:”I’ve heard that before and always feel a little prideful, though the quality of the water has nothing to do with me.”
I wonder if that’s so. What if your role is simply to accept the water you’ve been offered, rather than striving to conform it to your desires? That sounds easy, but I find it to be one of the hardest things in life, and I’m always encouraged to hear of others who can not only accept, but also cherish the gifts they have been given, as they have been given.
I read on, hoping to find a connective link between thirst and the current peril created in the past 2 weeks of Trump II. I filled in for myself...the woman at the well...everything is connected, etc. Not everyone can or will do that. We need all the comfort/guidance we can get to get through this nightmare, and maybe save this democracy. You are a gifted priest/teacher/pastor and writer. We need it loud and clear.
Lovely! Thank you. I read this directly after listening to a clip of MLK speaking about militarism, consumerism, and speaking truth to power. When I read your meditation on good water I read it in the cadence of one who made good trouble. Somehow that was exactly right.
6 years ago we prepared to sell our “almost a farm” , little ranch. To sell rural property in Canada you have to prove potable water from your well. Our shallow well owed us nothing. It kept us in water through freezing pipes, broken pumps and fires. The day the men came to check the well for the buyer they thought they would be there a couple of hours until they could empty the well to figure out how much water it contained and how much time it would take for it to refill. After 8 hours they gave up and left. And god bless the well, they couldn’t empty it. The water was crystal clear, cold, and free. It had the tastes of the sub alpine evergreens, the quaking aspen with their underground roots multiplying, the mycelium , hidden but not , the thanks from the doe and her fawn; a new one every year, the moma bear and her cubs who came every year for a couple of weeks so she could teach them when and how to pick Saskatoon berries and the fur from my youngest dog who somehow fell into the well while my husband took the lid off so he could look down to change the light bulb that kept the pipe warm in the winter. She was a shallow but mighty well. He would have drowned in a deep well. I was born i n the city and now live in a city again but I will never during a glass of water without thinking about that well.
Lovely meditation on the simple glass of water and how much you appreciate, enjoy and feel the connection with it. I do not have well water, I live in an urban area and have “city water” but we also have an old fashioned 10 gallon bottle water dispenser for drinking. I’m not a religious or an especially spiritual person, but every morning the first thing I do is poor myself a glass of water and hold the glass up in my kitchen window and say “thank you”. Because, I’m grateful to be starting a new day with the most elemental necessity of my existence and therefore my experience. It’s all there in that glass of water. Thank you for sharing your story, so I could share mine. In solidarity.
Lovely, thank you. When used to visit my Dad’s family home in northeastern Montana, us boys would head out to visit old Chris Sorenson. Chris lived out among the wild horses, which he supplied to ranchers and the Calgary Stampede rodeo. My Dad worked for Chris as a teenager, it’s how he became a “horse whisperer.” Chris truly lived “off the land” as they say; a small garden, a few chickens, no indoor plumbing, wood burning stove, no electricity nor phone. His tasty water came from a natural spring a short walk away. Chris called it a “coolie” and it was indeed.
In town (Nashua) the water tasted nasty…from an alkaline aquifer. Rain water was collected for washing hair (the women), otherwise it was coffee or tea to hide that awful stinky taste…or walk into the soda fountain on Main Street.
Your writing always seems to make me feel like I’m outdoors. Hint of ponderosa, tangy notes of moss, with a smooth robin wing finish. Thank you, Barbara.
I see what you did there, Kate.
😉
Like the good water you wrote about, your words are like good water soothing my soul. I appreciate you and your timely thoughts so much. Thank you.
Raising my glass to you with thanks for your intentional living and rich aquifer of words. 💦
haha! my thought exactly!
A beautiful and needed reminder that we - every element and creature - all live together.
You say:”I’ve heard that before and always feel a little prideful, though the quality of the water has nothing to do with me.”
I wonder if that’s so. What if your role is simply to accept the water you’ve been offered, rather than striving to conform it to your desires? That sounds easy, but I find it to be one of the hardest things in life, and I’m always encouraged to hear of others who can not only accept, but also cherish the gifts they have been given, as they have been given.
Thank you. For this.
Oh Barbara, this is one of the most beautiful pieces I have read. Your honor the nature of water. Thank you.
“I taste melted snow and pine cones, with a hint of last year’s mown meadow and a strong finish of sunlight on warm stone.” ♥️
So excited to find you on Substack! A parishioner way back in ‘92 when I was in HS, and you officiated my wedding!
That’s good writing.
I read on, hoping to find a connective link between thirst and the current peril created in the past 2 weeks of Trump II. I filled in for myself...the woman at the well...everything is connected, etc. Not everyone can or will do that. We need all the comfort/guidance we can get to get through this nightmare, and maybe save this democracy. You are a gifted priest/teacher/pastor and writer. We need it loud and clear.
Lovely! Thank you. I read this directly after listening to a clip of MLK speaking about militarism, consumerism, and speaking truth to power. When I read your meditation on good water I read it in the cadence of one who made good trouble. Somehow that was exactly right.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts in writing here with us! I’m finding such encouragement and peace in your words.
The Well That Saved My Dog.
6 years ago we prepared to sell our “almost a farm” , little ranch. To sell rural property in Canada you have to prove potable water from your well. Our shallow well owed us nothing. It kept us in water through freezing pipes, broken pumps and fires. The day the men came to check the well for the buyer they thought they would be there a couple of hours until they could empty the well to figure out how much water it contained and how much time it would take for it to refill. After 8 hours they gave up and left. And god bless the well, they couldn’t empty it. The water was crystal clear, cold, and free. It had the tastes of the sub alpine evergreens, the quaking aspen with their underground roots multiplying, the mycelium , hidden but not , the thanks from the doe and her fawn; a new one every year, the moma bear and her cubs who came every year for a couple of weeks so she could teach them when and how to pick Saskatoon berries and the fur from my youngest dog who somehow fell into the well while my husband took the lid off so he could look down to change the light bulb that kept the pipe warm in the winter. She was a shallow but mighty well. He would have drowned in a deep well. I was born i n the city and now live in a city again but I will never during a glass of water without thinking about that well.
How blessed you are with the Water of Life-straight from the Giver! Your words are yet another blessing to so many. ❤️
Lovely meditation on the simple glass of water and how much you appreciate, enjoy and feel the connection with it. I do not have well water, I live in an urban area and have “city water” but we also have an old fashioned 10 gallon bottle water dispenser for drinking. I’m not a religious or an especially spiritual person, but every morning the first thing I do is poor myself a glass of water and hold the glass up in my kitchen window and say “thank you”. Because, I’m grateful to be starting a new day with the most elemental necessity of my existence and therefore my experience. It’s all there in that glass of water. Thank you for sharing your story, so I could share mine. In solidarity.
Lovely, thank you. When used to visit my Dad’s family home in northeastern Montana, us boys would head out to visit old Chris Sorenson. Chris lived out among the wild horses, which he supplied to ranchers and the Calgary Stampede rodeo. My Dad worked for Chris as a teenager, it’s how he became a “horse whisperer.” Chris truly lived “off the land” as they say; a small garden, a few chickens, no indoor plumbing, wood burning stove, no electricity nor phone. His tasty water came from a natural spring a short walk away. Chris called it a “coolie” and it was indeed.
In town (Nashua) the water tasted nasty…from an alkaline aquifer. Rain water was collected for washing hair (the women), otherwise it was coffee or tea to hide that awful stinky taste…or walk into the soda fountain on Main Street.