A Separation of Life :: essays research papers

Water, the median of life. Growing upin a small town nestled tightly in the arms of the wasatchfront, I learned early the importance of spirit. thither was afine argument drawn between religion and the outdoors, and thequest of my life was to determine an leave balance.Water, signifying the line between the spiritual and physical,played an important role in my secular teachings. Cuttingthrough the center of town it was the very phenomenon thatI had grown to love, the river. Soul restored andimagination stirred, the words of the river echoed the marksof God. Although by nature I stood alone, untutored anduntouched, the waters of life left me free to visualise thenatural side of Gods order. With its flowing properties andunbridled animosity to move forward, the water was myspirit. An old weathered palm tree emerged from the on the face of it impenetrable sandy beach. I leaned back againstits rough surface as the waves of the emerald blue oceanslowly crawled to my feet. They lappe d relentlessly againstthe shore as if exhausting to take me back with them. The windblew gently over the top of the extreme incoming waves asthey mirrored back the competing rays of solarise. With eachreflection, I narrowly squinted my eyes and continued tomarvel at this picturesque interaction of mask and beauty. Iraised my hand to my brow, wiping off the beads of sweatthat perfect(a) my face. As my fingers moved across mysensitive skin, I could tell the sun had left its mark. I felttheir was no escaping the blanket of rays only the clouds preceding(prenominal) seemed to be able to control. The pain wasuncomfortable, but disappeared quickly as I scooped upthe cool water and splashed it on my face. I knew that Icould not drink the seemingly infinite volume of water which border me, so I headed for a nearby pelt. Kneelingdown, I penetrated the stream with cupped hands andraised the fresh water to my dry lips. I was unavailing tocontrol the water as it sifted through my fingers and randown my arms, as if onerous to escape back to the stream. Ilicked my salty lips and drank. I had neer before tasted a more refreshing drink of water. This euphoric dwellwas one that I savored, as I reached for a second handful.There have been few experiences throughout my life that Iremember more vividly than of that day on the beach. Ioften think close to where the water would flow, and whowould be the recipient of its aqueous forgiveness.