What cool water there must be in Montana, as the crystalline mountain snows melt into streams and make their way down river, leading ever to nourish the landscape, and ultimately after thousands of miles to their home in the sea.
Norman Maclean was fond of the water, and was graced in knowing the land and the water and the air the way he did. Without ever studying Zen he became entranced by these elementals, and came to know his God on earth in a way that would make many of us envious – jealous, and in so doing we slip farther away from our own salvation.
In his lifetime the analogy of the water is rich with meaning. We view a pond and standing at the shore we cannot see the bottom, since there is a wind and the waters are stirring, there are waves on the surface, ‘ripples on the water’, and these obscure what is below.
The mind is like the waters, deep, often dark and mysterious. Nature, the world around us, the senses and the perceptions are the wind and the waves, and the bottom of the pond is our destiny, our true self, the one which we seek, and are bound to know.
Looking at the water in this way we can see that until we still the waves, the constant motion of the mind flitting from here to there and back again, then the bottom will always be obscured, and our journey will be long and restless.
When we can rest on the waters edge, and the winds calm, as the sun shines warm upon our skin, the surface of the waters become a clear glass and the bottom … our eternal spirit … comes into view. Fleetingly at first, but evermore we are changed. In the moment of serenity, we know our God is within, and live renewed.
This is the Spirit Norman wrote of, and sought in the rivers that parted the earth throughout his boyhood, and to which he returned in old age. This is the Spirit the Native Americans knew. This is our source, the place we are bound, the place of our origin.
“I am haunted by water …” (Norman Maclean)
grandfathersky 
While I had no choice in the matter for it was before my time and (I hope) not directly connected to my bloodline, I am haunted by the incredible ignorance of European ancestry and what they did to the spirit of this land, and to the people of this land.
Often in my prayers I ask for our forgiveness for the hearts buried at Wounded Knee and so many other places never to be known.
Kicking Bird asked “How many will come?”
“Like the stars” answered Shumani-tatanka-obwachi
AGREED.
This was a most fantastic read! It was fun and relaxing to read and at the same time I was filled with a sense of curiosity and wonder. It really captures the imagination and a deep sense of innocence. Eloquently written. Thank you for sharing it with me. 🙂
I can also relate to it. I have spent many years as an only child in a holler deep in the mountains enjoying the serenity of the water and watching my reflection, and the sky and clouds that roll by in it when you adjust your vision. I also gained a love for the rocks and pebbles, and even had a rock collection with all the ‘pretty’ rocks I could find. That love has spilled into my adult life, and when I was 25, my mate and I took up artifact hunting, and we have a modest but impressive collection of arrowheads and tools the Indians used. 🙂
I feel compelled to expound upon the fact that in our artifact hunting, it is a sacred time for us, for each find stops the heart, and has it’s own life and heartbeat, it’s own story to tell. With sensations and images of lives once lived and now lost, and blood spilled, we offer a silent prayer for the memory of this magnificent native people. We treasure each gift, and have them in safe keeping, to pass on to our son and share the love with him. 🙂
I have watched the series ‘500 Nations’ and while it is fascinating to help us understand the way the indigenous people lived, it is tragic at the same time because we all know how every story ends … I am glad you are passing one your reverence to the next generation.
Wonderful stuff.. I do so love the water.