At the far end of my garden, in the wilderness of north Wales, well, actually just over the unmarked and unannounced boundary of my garden, is a rivulet. Hidden by trees and gorse bushes, it rushes by the northern boundary, invisible to all, except to me and a few locals.
It’s small and fast. Small. Yes, with a slight run and jump you can easily jump over it. Fast. Well, fast for it’s size. It’s so small it has no name, here, except the one I gave it. To me, this stream or rivulet, this small river (as it widens as other tributaries join it further along) deserves a name. It was here before I was born, from a time when the mountains were carved, and it will be here long after I’ve gone.
To me, this ‘watery companion’ is: Bach ac yn gyflym. Welsh geographical place-names are very descriptive, and it seemed right to call this rivulet by this name. It means ‘small and fast’. Very apt. A very Welsh name.
I was as at Bach ac yn gyflym earlier today, at mid-morning. It was hot. An unusually hot and glorious day, even for August. And sitting on the edge of the rivulet, alone but not alone, in the shade of aged trees, and dangling my feet in it’s coolness, I couldn’t help but write words of gratitude to the One who opens the fountains of the deep. I wrote:
River of all that is Holy flows from the mountain,
and passes me by.
What was parched, is parched no more.
And what was lifeless, now teems with life.
The earth is green by the handiwork of God.
And, the beast of the field honour the Giver of Life, the dragons and the owls, also.
We look on in awe, and pause in wonder.
In entering the river’s flow, we become the river.
Immersed. Baptised. Anew. ‘Oneing’ with God.
In entering the river’s flow, may what we do flow from us like this river
so that we become rivers of promise to others.
We will sing as no one ever has, flowing onward to the Great sea.
Oh, that our lives would be carried along by the flow of water,
that we are not concerned about the twists and turns it takes,
but be mindful of the joyful and onward journey to the Source of All.
Lord of the river, this refreshing, small and fast river, we give you thanks.
(Words also inspired by the works of: John O’Donohue, Rainer Maria Rilke, Julian of Norwich, Isaiah 43:20).