The River

Standing at the water's edge, I was struck by the stillness. The glass-like surface and darkening depth made the water look more like a lake and despite knowing otherwise, I started to doubt my belief that this was in fact a river. In my head, rivers were full of water rushing toward some unseen ocean and the water should be either white rapids or a clear shallow ripple over smooth rocks and pebbles. Not dark, deep and still. I snapped a little twig in half and threw the two pieces in the water. Nothing. They just sat there, still, pressing against each other as if caught in an embrace.
I sat down on the stones by the shore line and watched the twigs. The surface of the river looked peaceful. Deep and dark. Dark and deep.
I used to keep secrets. Deep, dark secrets. I used to believe that everyone had things about them that they alone knew. Then one day I was watching Alanis Morissette in an Interview on TV talking about how she wants to be as transparent as possible and I realized that buried somewhere in that idea was a sense of liberty. And maybe some people don't keep secrets.
I looked for my twigs in the water and they had moved. They were a bit further away from me and a bit further apart from each other. I hadn't really noticed a breeze that would blow them along. Maybe this deep, dark water is more like a river than I thought.
A friend of mine quit smoking last year. When I saw her last week I asked her how she was doing without her cigarettes. "It's funny," she said, "but sometimes I go days now without thinking of them at all." She explained to me how for the first couple of months she couldn't even go two minutes without thinking of a cigarette.
After that, the space between cravings got longer and longer. She'd think of smoking while getting her morning coffee, and then she wouldn't think about it again until after lunch. One day she realized that she hadn't even thought about it for several days. She wasn't sure when the last time was, but she knew it had been awhile back. "I hope there comes a time when I realize that I haven't craved one for a whole year." she told me.
The twigs were now quite a ways out. They were a little closer together again, but no longer clinging to each other like they were when I tossed them in. I could actually see movement now. The river currents were starting to have more of an effect and they were moving slowly down stream.
The other day I was driving down the highway in the third lane with the cruise control set at the unofficial Ontario speed limit--a smidgen under 120 kph. I noticed a woman pull into the middle lane beside me. Then I noticed her moving toward me into my lane. With something other than me and my vehicle on her mind, she kept coming over until she ran me off the road and onto the left shoulder. I fumbled for my horn and gave it a few loud honks.
When I pulled back in behind her, my hand was still on the horn, and I gave it another short push. I would have laid on the horn more, but I didn't have it in me. I'm not sure when such a change took place, though. In the past I would have laid on the horn, shook my fist and flipped her the bird. Then I might have sped around her and cut her off. But that was a long time ago.
Now I couldn't even find it in my heart to be angry. It's not like I've never noticed a guy in my rear-view mirror just as I was about to change lanes. There but for the grace of God go I. I don't think I've run anyone off the road, but it's certainly not because I was somehow better than my distracted highway acquaintance. I wished that I could somehow let her know that it was okay, that I wasn't mad, and that these things happen to everyone.
My twigs were gone now. Out of sight. I wondered if they floated above a deep dark spot of the river still. I know that further down the river the twigs would meet some serious turbulence. They would be smashed against rocks and sucked into watery vortexes. It would be a miracle if both twigs made it through. But on the other side of the rapids the water calms down. It's shallow and moving quickly, but it's deep enough for a smooth ride. If you look into the water down that way it is transparent. You can see the rocks and even some fish swimming below you. It feels more like a river down that way.
I keep no secrets anymore. They escaped. Not everyone knows every secret that I used to keep in the deep and the dark. I'm not a transparent rock goddess after all. But each secret is known by someone. The light shines on them all, like on the rocks in the shallow part of the river. I'm not sure when the change took place, when I realized that I could give them up. One day I realized that I wasn't hanging on to them any more. The insecurities, the weaknesses, the masks are mostly gone now.
I stood up and brushed the little stones from the back of my pants. Sticking my toe in the water made me realize that it is cold, but refreshing. Maybe someday I'll grab a canoe and ride it down the rocky part of the river. And when I get to the shallower part I'll look over the edge and wonder at the clarity of the water and how beautiful the bending light makes the rocks.