We are walking in a crowded park on a late fall day that speaks more of summer than the coming of winter. It is such an urban experience of the natural world. We see trees and shrubs planted, a cross between a forest and a library, most naturally unnatural. The day is filled with the gentle aroma of late fall and the laughter of children practicing bike riding for the last time this season. Very pedestrian, very comfortable.
And all that familiar comfort - of people and sounds, of trees trained for our edification - dissolves the moment we see the water. A small pond is in front of us with soft ripples making a canvas for the changing colors and textures of what is reflected in it. It is small and suggests a closer connection to the solid ground and grass around it than to the water. It is the reflections capture our attention.
What I want to say - to you and to me both - is that It doesn't matter which is object, which reflection. The familiarity we feel when we focus on such matters is not what we need in this moment. It is the ambiguity, the confusion that pushes us out of our usual categories. The water frames the practice we need to engage.