Waterfalls

Car­men and I hur­ried­ly zip our jack­ets and hun­ker down in the cold while I strug­gle to attach my cam­era to the tri­pod and put on the right fil­ter. Horse­tail Falls in the Colum­bia Gorge must be per­pet­u­al­ly in win­ter shade for Car­men notices how some of the mist com­ing off the falls turns to a kind of snow. I dili­gent­ly get off a few shots before the rest of that mist blots my lens and makes it impos­si­ble to shoot.

Horsetail Falls

Even so, the water­fall cap­tures me with its beau­ty and pow­er. There is an unbreak­able mag­ic in water tum­bling from a great height. The sound, by itself, reminds me of every­thing out­side myself, as the sea also can do or the sheer size of a moun­tain, or the unex­pect­ed screech of a bird. In this and oth­er ways, water­falls have always sym­bol­ized for me cer­tain qual­i­ties of trans­for­ma­tion. I wrote about that years ago in a post called, “Can Peo­ple Change?”

Still, I think, to come around the cor­ner of a trail, to be sur­prised by a water­fall is to redis­cov­er some for­got­ten thread of mean­ing. There is some­thing of death in the con­stant flow going over the edge, but also some­thing of release and trans­fig­u­ra­tion, and also of coa­lesc­ing and reform­ing and going on in a new way. With­out water­falls, we could not rein­vent our­selves. We’d have no model.

Lat­er, Car­men and I dri­ve past anoth­er water­fall, a very tall one a lit­tle ways back from the road.
“Should we stop?”
“Well, maybe.”
“Was it as beau­ti­ful as the last?”
“More.”
“Okay, just give me a few minutes.”

I walk back across a green, moss-cov­ered bridge over the ravine. The falls stand away from the road but I can still hear them, and the sun had bro­ken through just a lit­tle to light up some trees at the top, though most of the cliff is still shad­owed. I watch a long while, and take my shots.

Latourell Falls (Vertical)

Time is pass­ing. Car­men is in the car, wait­ing for me. It’s the end of anoth­er year. Lines come to me from Ray­mond Carv­er, bet­ter known for his short sto­ries than his poems, lines from a poem about look­ing for work, about fac­ing but still try­ing to escape uncom­fort­able realities.

Sud­den­ly, I find a new path
to the waterfall

he writes, yet in the poem he is only dream­ing. It’s already noon and his “new shoes” still wait by the door. A New Path to the Water­fall is the title of his last book of poems.

Time is pass­ing, I think. The water­fall is whol­ly beau­ti­ful, and is already lost behind us as we dri­ve on.

Time is pass­ing. Already, it’s a new year.

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By Dan Oestreich

I am a consultant, coach, facilitator and trainer supporting the growth and development of leaders and teams. For further information about my work and services, please access my Oestreich Associates website.

8 comments

  1. Hope dances for me in this sto­ry and I know we can con­tin­ue to find a new path to the water­fall — cap­tured here for an eter­ni­ty in your tal­ent and insight! Thanks Friend! hap­py New Year — that sto­ry topped off the per­fect day here! Best, Ellen

  2. Hi Ellen~
    Hap­py New Year right back to you. It’s great to hear your voice! I’m glad you found the mes­sage of hope in my post. Many need hope right now, and your words are very kind and inspir­ing. Thank you and all the best!

    ~Dan

  3. An inspir­ing post to start off the new year!

    I, too, am often mes­mer­ized by water­falls. Late­ly, the thoughts that come to me while trans­fixed by a water­fall seem to be focused on flow — as you high­light here — and impermanence.

    It was delight­ful to have an oppor­tu­ni­ty to go back and re-read one of Dan’s Great­est Hits (your post on “Can Peo­ple Change?”), and the many inspired and inspir­ing com­ments that post elicit­ed. This pas­sage, in par­tic­u­lar, res­onates with me at the moment:

    there are real­ly three pieces: change, tran­si­tion, and trans­for­ma­tion, with trans­for­ma­tion being the way a per­son unfolds and becomes him-or her­self over time as a result of going through tran­si­tions of all kinds 

    2016 was a year of change, tran­si­tion and trans­for­ma­tion for me, offer­ing me unsought oppor­tu­ni­ties to face uncom­fort­able real­i­ties and become more of my self — or, per­haps, since this is a con­ver­sa­tion with you, become more con­nect­ed to Self — through let­ting go of exter­nal val­i­da­tion and [there­by] mov­ing toward a more real­is­tic per­spec­tive on rela­tion­ships.

    Wish­ing you all the best in 2017 as you facil­i­tate the fac­ing of uncom­fort­able real­i­ties to pro­mote pos­i­tive transformations!

  4. Hi Joe~

    Thank you so much for shar­ing in this post, which is indeed about imper­ma­nence and how rapid­ly time seems to be mov­ing, at least for me. I like your post on real­is­tic rela­tion­ships a great deal, and we ought to share a glass of wine to dis­cuss. I still find the idea of unfold­ing as a per­son over time to be very excit­ing, and that is so true of rela­tion­ships, too. There is sta­ble ground and there is evo­lu­tion, and some­times a tec­ton­ic shift, and the pieces can be sur­pris­ing because in ret­ro­spect they seem to fit under­ly­ing pat­terns and arche­types we bare­ly grasp — our rev­e­la­tions found in after­thoughts that sug­gest the changes were fat­ed, if that is not too strong a word. And that, I sup­pose, is the arc — the begin­ning, mid­dle and end — of the water­fall whose first ori­gins and ulti­mate des­tiny remain for us in the dark.

    All the best to you, my friend, and to your fam­i­ly, and Hap­py New Year!

    ~Dan

  5. Dan. This takes me back to my years in Puer­to Rico in the 1970’s. To get out­side myself and con­nect with the uni­verse I would go to my favorite beach that had huge waves and dan­ger­ous under­tow. I would sit and watch. The pow­er of the ocean with each mas­sive wave as it builds and crash­es on shore would weave me in and out of my real­i­ty into anoth­er much larg­er and more won­drous than my own. I still go there in my mind when nec­es­sary. Hap­py New Year to you my friend. byron

  6. Byron~

    That’s a great sto­ry, Byron. We all have our places to con­nect beyond our­selves and it sounds like yours was tru­ly beau­ti­ful and pow­er­ful. Thank you for tak­ing a moment to com­ment, and HNY in return!

    All the best
    ~Dan

  7. Dan, I always enjoy read­ing your posts. but have been off line and off the grid for a few months.… will be back more often from mid Feb.… 

    Water falls are always a treat, espe­cial­ly when you get an oppor­tu­ni­ty to stand under the flow of water and feel the pow­er of the water as it drops over you.

    enjoy and keep well

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