My Day Is A Droplet of Water

Feb

Impromptu Letters | droplet of water, flow, life in a nutshell, memorable journey

Every day feels like a droplet of water.

All I need is a humble trickle; yet all I long for is a pour spout to catch every droplet. Not every droplet is meant to last forever though is it? Each one gives rise to the next. One by one my spirit asks for a trickle, another droplet. Who is to say if I warrant a flow just yet; maybe a slow and steady trickle will do just fine. My day is not a force to be reckoned with. Soon enough it will vanish into thin air. Worry not another droplet gives shape.

Each droplet imparts a flow, but a flow only contains droplets.

Such is life in a nutshell. Each day is a water droplet. Where a pour spout begs for a flow, standing at attention, ready for the next task, the water droplet does no such thing. A torrent will never expose or witness a single droplet as something beautiful. A single water droplet never wanders to far from what it is. It never expects, it just is – pour spout or no pour spout. A single droplet never gears up for the moment, asking to release the flow, to rain down as a succession of events, to spearhead our day or evolve life in cataclysmic proportions.

A droplet is formed by the impression of its maker.

A water droplet is akin to a simple request, a transmission of thought one spirit, one moment to the next. When we align with the sound of a water droplet, we align with the moment. When we align with the flow, we are carried away. Each thought either aligns to a droplet or the flow, but not both. Willfully our spirit asks us to form our day as a water droplet, a sinew on a single strand of silk. Each droplet endears itself on a memorable journey. This is how the day plays out as a water droplet. Visualize the droplet of your day, let it surround the moment, coaxing but never leading, never asking for more than it is.

Think of a spider in a morning mist.

An eight legged debutant undulates in the slow rise of the day. Does she worry about the thousand or so droplets that land on her heavily laden bed of silk, or does she lay low and allow the day to take shape, water droplets and all? Each droplet tempers our day and touches the soul, unlike that of the ego. Wander back ten twenty, thirty or more years. What do you remember most, a rushing flow of events or singular moment that brings your mind to a complete and utter standstill? If yesterday played out as a single droplet, why shouldn’t today? Why not curl up in that thought?

Should droplets ask us for anything more?

Is there more than meets the eye in a water droplet of yesterday? Should there be? If there is, I haven’t found it, except in the slight reflection that plays in the light as I trigger a fragrant memory or two. Each one tells me to slow down, to keep the day as I keep to nature, one glance, one touch, one whiff at a time. Yes, each day is a droplet, a submission to more than the laws of mankind who would surely enable otherwise.

The next time you see a droplet of water remember those of us who call for a flow call to control. Why not wait and witness a humble trickle?