Home for Water

Good Morning -

Water, water everywhere. That is not what I need.

Water, water nowhere. That is also not what I need.

Like most things in life, moderation is my ticket when it comes to that specific blend of hydrogen and oxygen that is so particularly important to our existence.

When I lived in San Antonio, there were little creeks and streams and rivers that flooded and water in the air all the time. Humid, humid, humid was the air and, not only did it do nothing for my naturally curly hair, but it made for a persistent sense of dampness and a need to make sure that clothes and towels were absolutely dry as could be before folding and putting them away lest one wanted to support a colony of mold.

When I lived in southern Arizona, there were bone-bleached washes that most of the year instinctively made one swallow and check saliva levels when looking at them. This involuntary survival reflex was abated briefly during monsoon season in which one could watch more water than AZ steals in a day from the Colorado River roar past for just long enough to make one remember what it looks like to have water in creek beds, but not long enough to do anything substantial. That and the air was so very dry and the sun so very hot and direct. One never needed to worry about mold growing on clothes - more likely the concern was how the sun and waterless air would quickly deteriorate most organic surfaces, clothing and skin included.

Now I live in Colorado and, like our little house-squatting heroine, I find it just right. The air is dryer than San Antonio, but not so much so that one worries about shattering. There is consistent water in creek beds, such that one can witness the eventual weathering away of granite to sand and the composting of leaves on the bed of the creek.

Here, too, water falls from the sky, but in very moderate amounts and in a variety of forms. It rains (but not too much), there is snow (soon, soon I hope), and every so often we have a hail storm or two - just enough to wake us up and remind us of the weather.

I need this regular exposure to water without feeling soggy. If we step to astrology for a moment, I'm Leo sun (fire), Sagittarius rising (fire), and Gemini moon (air). There's nary a drop of water to be found in my chart, which means that all my burning and blowing needs to be balanced with a session by a moving stream from time to time.

I need to hear water moving. I need to watch it move over rocks and leaves. I need to see ducks and other feathered friends float down it. I need that sense of permanence, that reminder of the patient reconstructioning of rock by water that comes from sitting by a creek.

Friday when I met my partner down by the galleries after work for First Friday, I used the Cherry Creek pathway to get from my office to the galleries. Not the fastest route, perhaps, but so wonderful to hear water moving and watch the ducks with all their grumpy authority take on the bikers, runners, and walkers along the path.

I can't express how happy I am to have a beautiful little creek run through the city and not have it be a merchant canal or shopping zone or anything but a beautiful little creek that runs through the city.

And, so, that's our Virgen. Two chairs by a creek, perfectly positioned to just sit and watch the water move along.

(Side note: I noticed this morning that I didn't cover up the words at the base of the photo entirely, and so have "eek" under the Virgen. Our basement is not only where my creativity station is but also where the litter boxes are kept. As I was flipping through looking for images last night, Autumn came down and took care of her business before retiring for the evening. The smell was such that I could barely breathe, let alone get the positioning of the Virgen just right. Wow.)

Like with the other aspects I need in my home area, I will demonstrate my love for the moving waterways by appreciating them, using them, and doing my part to keep them clean. There's nothing like an unused space for trash and those with less savory intentions to begin to gather. I think the water loves to be loved and so I will.

Here's to that. Here's to having a wonderfully balanced relationship with water - especially of the natural, moving variety.