On Saturday morning, Meeps, Nat and I decided to go down to Pony Pasture to see what the James is like when it’s flooding. What we found was this: The James River- February 2nd, 2013
I was absolutely amazed. I can’t count the number of times I have boulder hopped/swam at Pony Pasture, and the river had completely covered any and all boulders my friends and I have lounged, played and picnicked on. Only a few months ago a few Earthlodgers and I boulder-hopped and swam across the river relatively easily. Now anybody who tried would have a death wish. Rivers by nature are ever-changing, but it astonished me exactly how different the James looked in my eyes.
As I sat by the river listening to the roar of the rushing water, I couldn’t help but flash back to Jenny’s presentation during our last class, when she talked about the river’s various identities to the native American tribes that lived by it. There was no one name, no one role the James played in each of the tribes’ lives. The river initially had no fish, but when the fish came, the role of the James shifted for all of them. It seems to me that though we all see the James differently, when it changes drastically and turns from a peaceful, serene part of our lives to a slightly scary one, we align for a little while. That trend also seems to be followed during other, more destructive events. Hurricane Sandy, for example. It equalized the New Jersey inhabitants whose lives it affected. The earthquake in Haiti in 2010 is another example. Plopped down beside the rushing James, I felt humbled. All it took was heavy rainfall to transform my favorite spot in Richmond into something that terrified me. I felt small. It was a wonderful yet nerve-wracking reminder that there are things far beyond our control, and that those things have the ability to shift our visions to align. Which is something amazingly powerful.
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