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When the spring rains keep falling…

May 8, 2017

It’s there, in people’s voices.

There’s that excitement, barely concealed – out of politeness, out of a sense of decorum. Can’t get too excited. That would be impolite.

But it is exciting. The river moves now as if it had awoke from a long slumber. It writhes through our town like a nest of coiling snakes breeding in the spring.

It moves as if it could swallow everything in its path. As if it is twisting on itself, as if the banks are too tight, struggling with a shirt that is too small, trying to unwrap itself, wanting to be free.

In our cafe people’s eyes light up as they look at it from the window. They compare it to the great flood of 2011. Could it happen again? Could it be worse than the last time?

Their faces looked concerned, but happy at the thought that it could break its banks – soon…how soon…I hope I get to see it when it happens kind of faces.

The further from the banks they live the more excited they are by the possibility.

Where would be the best vantage points – when one drives into town – to watch it happen? How mighty will its wrath be?

It is quite different than the people who live on those banks. It is even more so for those who live in the flood plains of the river. Already, their driveways have disappeared. There is no way into town. They are isolated. Cut off from civilization. It’s biblical.

What drives the excitement? What makes the eye gleam while watching the frothing surface, the roiling back of that great snake?

Tranquilized by our technology, do we glimpse something larger, more primal, stirring something deep behind our loins – a basic urge, a reptilian response? It’s almost sexual. A longing. A hunger.

In our anthropocentric multi-mirrored existence we catch a glimpse in the river of something that moves outside of us – that has been here an eternity, that will be here long after we are gone.

On CBC radio yesterday the man spoke of the fact that fewer and fewer of us attend church services. Yet more and more of us say we long for something spiritual. We have no God.

But we have Nature.

And increasingly we will have Nature’s wrath, climate change, global warming, a punishment for our collective sins. Wash the world clean again. We can make a new start. Get it right next time.

Leviticus.

Self-flagellation.

The divine sweetness of punishment.

It’s all so exciting!

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http://www.mybancroftnow.com/20392/flood-warning-issued-york-river/

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