The Fish and The Falls pt. 2
The sun was warm on the trout’s back. In his sleep, he dreamt he was playing again. Dashing between the rocks daring the water to catch him. He dreamt he was at home.
Then he awoke, remembering his pilgrimage.
He heard the roar. It sounded near. He opened his eyes and there it was. A wall of white foam. Water tumbling, then falling, then flying, then crashing.
It was like nothing he’d ever seen.
I will climb it and see it.
He swam to where the water crashed into the river. He attempted to swim upwards. He would ascend the falls by brute force. But the onrush of the water was too strong. Undaunted, he swam until he could swim no more, then he slept.
The next day he attempted to jump to the top. He plunged downward, deep below the churning foam. He swam deep. He swam until the water was still and dark and the roar was distant. Then he turned upward.
His fins fought from one side to the other, pushing and propelling the trout until he was swimming faster than he’d ever swum. He swam straight for the surface. Higher and higher, faster and faster. He raced through the calm waters toward the surface. He broke through the top of the water and soared high into the air. He soared so high he was sure he would land on the top of the waterfall. But he didn’t. He barely rose above the foam. Then he fell.
I’ll try again. Down he swam. Up he pushed. Out he flew. And down he stumbled.
He tried again. And again. And again. Ever trying to reach the top of the wall. Ever failing at his quest.
Finally night fell and the moon stood vigil over the weary young trout.
He awoke with renewed strength and a new plan. He found a safe pool off to the side of the base of the waterfall. Through the still waters he looked up. He would swim against the gentle trickle of the water as it poured over the rocks. Pleased with his wisdom, he set out. Doggedly he pushed his body to do what it wasn’t made to do.
For an entire passing of the sun through the sky he struggled. He pushed on - climbing, falling; climbing, falling; climbing, falling. At one point, when his muscles begged for relief, he actually reached a ledge from which he could look out over the water below. Swollen with his achievements he leaned too far out and tumbled headfirst into the calm pool from which he began.
Wearied from his failure, he slept.
He dreamt of the roar. He dreamt of the glory of leaving the mountain stream and dwelling in the waterfall. But when he awoke, he was still at the bottom.
When he awoke, the moon was still high. It discouraged him to realize that his dream was not reality. He wondered if it was worth it. He wondered if those who never sought to know were happier.
He considered returning. The current would carry him home.
I’ve lived with the roar all my life and never heard it. I could simply not hear it again.
But how do you not hear the yearning of your heart? How do you turn away from discovery? [How can you be satisfied with existence once you’ve lived with purpose?]
The fish wanted nothing more than to ascent the water. But he was out of choices. He didn’t know what to do. He screamed at the waterfall. “Why are you so harsh? Why are you so resistant? Why won’t you help me? Don’t you see I can’t do it on my own? I need you!”
Just then the roar of the water began to subside. The foaming slowed. The fish looked around. The water was growing still!
Then, he felt the current again. He felt the familiar push of the rushing water. Only this time the push was from behind. The water gained momentum, slowly at first, then faster and faster until the fish found himself being carried to the tall stone wall over which had flowed the water. The wall was bare and big.
For a moment he feared he would be slammed into it. But just as he reached the rocks, a wave formed beneath him. The trout was lifted upwards. Up he went out of the water on the tip of a rising tongue. The wave elevated him up the wall.
By now the forest was silent. The animals stood still as if they witnessed majesty. The wind ceased its stirring. The moon tilted ever so slightly in an effort not to miss the miracle.
All of the nature watched as the fish rode the wave of grace. All of nature rejoiced when he reached the top. The stars raced through the blackness. The moon tilted backwards and rocked in sweet satisfaction. Bears danced. Birds hugged. The wind whistled. And the leaves applauded.
The fish was where he had longed to be. He was in the presence of the roar. What he couldn’t do, the river had done. He knew immediately he would spend forever relishing the mystery.
