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My Water-Meadow

November 19, 2014 / My Water-Meadow

If you have read novels set in England maybe you have read the lovely word Water-Meadow.  “Meadow” is one of my favorite words, and when I first read about water-meadows I saw a wonderful image in my mind’s-eye.  A green meadow, sparkling with rivulets of water that glittered in sunlight. 

A few weeks ago, feeling myself once again about to slide over the edge into extravagant and overwhelming weeping in grief, but being in a very public place, as I started my slide I thought of the word “flood,” a flooding of tears.  Then somehow appeared in my mind an image of that powerful flood gushing into a water-meadow, its vicious pain dissipating into multiple, beautiful, lively streams that flowed into the meadow, giving life to the plants therein.  I held that image in my mind, saying “water-meadow, water-meadow” quietly, and lo! I was able to stop the flood of weeping before it overcame me.

Since that first time I have sent tears into the water-meadow many times, and each time it has absorbed them, leaving me able to go about whatever I thought I was going to do next. 

Water-meadow.  Water-meadow.  Water-meadow.

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