Looking over the River @ Southeast Cabin

Weserblick. View on Weser. What is it that makes you sit near the front window? And look into...what? Why, how? There we go every morning after waking up. Look and see the river flowing. You know it couldn’t stop streaming. Small brooks and creeks could dry out in summer. Desert rivers turn into mud pools, eventually vanish. But they seem to go on underground. Would you look or stare in a dry bed?


Eternal streaming, movement. That Panta Rhei, ouden menei. Everything flows, nothing remains. Do you look into that river to realize that the blood in your vessels will stop flowing, drying away? Or do you just want to reassure yourself? There goes the river, good morning, business as usual? Thats how we want it to be: the forested riverside, greening. Clouds over the horizon. Some raindrops. Yes, I heard the rain in the night.


Most times we do not ask ourselves why we look into the mountains. Could they be streaming too, while the river shows its unfathomable depth? Hey, how do you see mountains stream or even walk? Did you forgot to bring your plumb line, stupid. No, that is not what I mean. I do not want to measure.

I’m going to read some poems. Chinese poetry on mountains and rivers, Waking up in the morning, Seeing the river. Walking down the mountainside. Cold, wintery winds blowing. Looking for the sheperd and the fisherman at Southeast Cabin. Finding no one. Returning home in icy rain.