Waters fall

And I miss my waterfalls, too, don’t remember seeing one in the past two years. Maybe small ones. I remember this big one as the last, in a downpour, with a wet camera lens, somewhere in Bali.

2012 bali gitgit

I watch the water tumbling down over the rocks. Roaring. Drowning out every thought and leaving just the raw emptiness, to be filled with anything that may. Tempting fate, but always worth the gamble for an hour.
I am wondering if fish hear the water at all – or maybe for them, this roaring sound is silence itself – the only reality they know.

I take photos – hundreds of them. On the little screen, the falling water is motionless for a split second, giving the funny little illusion that I can escape impermanence. I press the button again and again in a vain attempt to stop the water from falling, to freeze it in mid-air, playing with the thought that it may even un-fall if I try hard. The water laughs at me and thunders on, and I laugh at the water, in the end.

2009 august chiang mai

The little stream flows, falls, thunders, sings, meanders on and on, for decades, centuries, millennia. The photos – imperfect, fragile memories of the moment, remain. I wish I could hold on to more. Just enough to fill my cup with.

2009 september mok fa

Then I put my camera down and plunge into the water. Unexpectedly, time stops while everything is moving and I swim against the current. This is as close as I ever get to permanence.

2009 july maesa

Still looking for the waterfall with the rainbow. The one where I can stand still and let it flow all over me and everything would fall into place and make sense. Like it once did.


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