Today I shared a meal with a striking professional woman. We discussed her passion for the second half of life, for healing trauma, and for giving all children the gifts of compassion for self and others.

She told me how on New Year’s Day, she walks to our river and asks “what do I need to learn?” Then she listens to the actual sounds of the river. The answer comes to her.  I was amazed.

We talked about how each person has their special river story. It always amazes me.

And then she cupped her hands together and said this thing that disoriented me. I mean linguistically, visually, spatially, chronologically. I don’t even know how to place it in my mind, but it gives me the shivers. She changed the topic when I finally regained enough regular consciousness to stammer out “what? What do you mean?”

So — if you know, please tell me. Or just enjoy the shivers:

“And who holds the river?”