It is early morning. Floodwaters swirl through Main Street of a small town. Residents, dressed for work, wade thigh-high, to the other side. Some are nearly toppled by waters encroaching their necks. They seem oblivious to their appearance, to their hardship, unaware the rains had stopped. Like robots, they move into their day.

In this dream, water, critical for sustaining life, is out of control; it threatens all in its path, especially evident this spring, as reported by various news sources. Heavy rains and melting snow packs have been gorging the Missouri River, threatening cities from Montana to Missouri. This morning’s story features the plight of over 11,000 displaced residents in Minot, South Dakota.

We on dry land are uneasy, and have been for some time. Something is out of kilter. Who or what can deal with these precarious circumstances? Restore balance?

On a deeper level other questions surface. What about our own “flooding,” due to excessive involvements in work, in games, in substances of whatever kind, including Internet/TV surfing? What about instant communication with I-Phones, texting, etc? What has happened to our Inner Director’s cues, often lost in the clamor of instant satisfactions?

I, too, am subject to “flooding,” at times, but have learned to step back and seek help. Perhaps this comes with age and grace. At least it’s working for me. There’s nothing like walking beneath the shelter of maple trees in my neighborhood, greeting dog-walkers, enjoying trumpet vines, white and lavender althea bushes, and flowering hostas — at one with the pulsating energies enfolding me. Without them, I become disoriented, and vulnerable to more “flooding.”

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