The following is a piece inspired by a sociology class I took last year, in which we learned of the nature of people and society. On our weekly walks to Edworthy Park, in the beginning of this semester, I noticed correlations between that nature and what I observed of the river.
Along the rocky shores, beneath the bridge, we were told to sit, write, be inspired. I was inspired by the autonomous nature of the river, in which it ran in sync, despite the obstructions of people on kayaks, stray stones skipped along its surface, and pieces of wood drifting hypnotically downstream. No matter the ways in which it was parted, the river seemed unhindered, unified. It reminded me of humanity. The ways in which a society, despite being pummeled into submission, can regroup. It reminded me of the ways in which history has proven the formidable and defective inclinations of such a society.
Water is a social creature by nature.
It is not social due to its cohesive properties, rather the molecular make up of water dictates companionship in a more elemental way: a communal need to conquer.
Where the earth quakes and the fire ripples like a flag in the wind, signalling surrender, water thrives. A perverse attraction builds, a precipitate tension that rises to the surface rallying the masses in a time of adversity, manipulating the bad and making it worse.
Soon sounds a call to arms, a conscription that can’t be ignored. The duty and security of a common cause and the bonding of camaraderie filtering any remaining sediment. Thus, evaporates an individual and condenses a state.
There is no singularity in water, no loneliness either. It rests together, it falls together, it runs together, and it most importantly it kills together. The blame is shared, the blood evenly dispersed, until it is almost like it was never shed.
Water does what nature dictates; it takes the shape of its container without even detecting its compliance. Water swirls in a perpetual whirl pool of repeated mistakes, never once draining in its frenzy to continue the viscous cycle.
However, every once and a while something happens that prompts a moment of pause, freezing the cycle. A moment of clarity transpires that floats on the surface of the collective consciousnesses, but it is never quite dense enough to sink in, to elicit ripples of change. And so continues the never-ending charade.
Thus is the nature of water.
Thus is the enigma.