From the window I could see the creek rising and changing course. Outside in the rain I searched along the stream and found a snag of debris that reached across the span, standing strong against the current. I stood on top of the debris pile with water running beneath and through the knotted pieces of forest and rock and marveled at the tangle of what, taken separately was almost weightless, but amassed was fighting the good fight to hold back this otherwise powerful run.
Stemming and twisting the creek flow all the while debriding its banks. The stream had adapted to the stones, branches and leaf remnants shifting course away from the creek basin.
It fought against my casual even feeble attempt to untangle the lowest and largest branches.
I became captured in the metaphor.
I changed course and attacked the newest knots, one snag at a time. The water rushed immediately to fill the gaps and I laughed out loud exhilarated by the task. The largest layer resisted my tugging at the web of historical debris. The water seemed colder, and threatening, but then with rising momentum began to release.
One layer at a time. Each one inevitably disrupting the next. A dynamic model of accumulated structures that took on a life of its own, resisting change and then little bit by little bit, loosened its grip on the whole.
Branches, stones and leaf molt gave way to a rushing current.