Flow

The river is getting lower. I�ve watched each day, crossing the bridge, as the water level has fallen. It was beautiful as the first little nodes of rock became revealed, small eddys and nooks carved out smooth and wavy where the water had washed away at them for centuries. It was beautiful when these nodes became islands and when the wind blew seeds into their cracks that took root into bushes and trees. Birds and students would stand on these islands, dipping beaks and feet into the cooling current. It was beautiful when the islands became plateaus, smooth expanses of stone waves. The water was getting lower and some travelers built cairns in the shallows; others stuck long, narrow rocks straight into the muck to form spikes. A raven has taken to flying over the river. The first time I saw him, I thought it was ominous. He�s a huge bird, missing a few feathers from each wing- obviously a seasoned traveler. I wonder what he�s watching the water for. These days the river is getting so low that the center is drying up. I�ve never been here this late in the summer before, so I�m unsure if it�s a normal occurrence or if we�re looking at a serious drought. There�s been a large area of standing water about 30 by 30 feet to the west of the bridge for several days now. I knew that without rain it would begin to dry up. Yesterday it was still standing and a family of wood ducks- a mother and six babies- paddled from it into the current and up the river. Today the first of the silt has been revealed as the water evaporates more. There were two herons in the shallows, standing in the pools formed by some of the smaller islands. The deepest parts of the river remain strong and fast flowing, water tumbling over water. I still haven�t walked the path along the river this year. I haven�t been in it, though sometimes I really want to. I think I�m afraid of the pollution� or cutting myself on something. It hasn�t been hot enough to warrant desperation but often people are out wading anyway. Maybe soon, or maybe I won�t get the chance because the river will dry up and leave the Willamette valley a scorched plain, yearning for the ocean.


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Another scuba class yesterday evening. A terribly exhausting thing, learning to dive. Fun though- if only they'd crank up the room temperature in the damn pool. The water is 81 degrees... pretty warm. But the air could use work. By the end of class I wasn't so cold this time, but I still had to piss like a horse. Being in the cold water for two hours does that to most people and in a class of 28, you don't want to risk letting go. Ick. That's the worst part, really. Eventually it makes it difficult to swim around and your stomach begins to hurt.

Yesterday we did some skill review, learned to step into the deep water, did a 10 minute tread without gear, and practiced several snorkel methods (snorkel clear, using snorkel, snorkel/regulator switch). We also learned "tired diver tow" methods and ascent/ descent techniques.

On the way to class I saw a group of spirited students filming one of those "welcome to the university" promo videos.They always do the filming in the same dumb spot- on these rocks outside of Friendly hall. Why? I don't know. No one likes Friendly hall, it's just the stupid languages building. Anyway, they were sitting on the rocks and one of them would talk at a time. It was so freaking contrived. One guy finished and the other was like "oh, what am I again? Oh, yeah, I'm 'diverse community'." Guess he's able to speak from the heart. I wonder if anyone buys that crap.

Had beef stew last night. I've taken to eating red meat again in moderation. Also eating roast beef sandwiches for lunch. I love food. Sometimes I hate it... and I really could love without meat. But that would be unfair to Justin. Reading the weblogs of some of these self-proclaimed "anorexics by choice" has had the surprising effect of making me want to eat more, to relish it, to love food because I can. I'm too scared to become like that. I know I tend toward neurosis and I've lost a lot of weight in the past few years. I carry an immense amount of "food guilt" that annoys people I eat with immensely. But it's become so much of what I do on a daily basis (count calories, watch what I weight, what I eat) that I don't notice it until someone points it out. Where does one draw the line between normal and problematic? Eighty pounds isn't beautiful, it's sick... but you don't have to be underweight to have serious issues. I'm working on a summary (somewhat more of an essay) on my experience with an opinions on the subject for later.

I've been feeling a strange nostalgia lately, mixed with some satisfaction. I feel happy right now. I have a cozy home and two boys (Rupert and Justin) to keep me company. Sometimes I'm vistited though, voluntarily or involuntarily, by the past. Sometimes it comes in dreams, sometimes in something I find somewhere. It's a good way to inspire introspection... and usually a positive thing if I'm not terribly depressed. But I wonder, what does it all mean? Is there still something telling me I should look deeper, or is it the same voice that haunts everyone? Maybe I'll know someday....