people in their loneliness, in their dream of love or lack of love, are always wandering down to the water’s edge in the night. the flow of water soothes the crazed and organized spirit of man.  his thoughts gently mingle with the stream and leave the body tranquil.  the water is the great friend of the mind, the comforter, the peace maker.  flowing, flowing, ever flowing.  throw a stick in and it is carried along on the great bosom.  throw a body in, and it is carried along to the open sea.  throw your pain in, your sorrow, your torment -- the water carries everything off, makes everything right.  just by endlessly flowing.  the river  never says no to man.  it accepts everything impartially and with equanimity.  it keeps moving along.  it says yes, yes, all the time.  it says yes even when it is losing itself in the big waters which circle endlessly about.  there is no loneliness among the creatures that inhabit the water.  there is no loneliness among the creatures which inhabit the air.  it is only the creatures that inhabit the land who are lonely and man is the loneliest of them all.  and he is even sadder and lonelier when he is surrounded by his kind.  man is not a land animal like the other creatures; he stands apart from the whole of creation.  man was made to inhabit an invisible world created out of his own suffering.  he will not find it anywhere by searching with his eyes.  the world that he was destined to create is within him and when he discovers it he is king. and this world, like all the other world, is constantly flowing, constantly changing.  it can grow in volume, like the amazon, or it can narrow itself like a knife and become a colorado.  it can even go backwards, like the st. john’s.  but it must keep flowing or die.  it must accept everything which is offered it and bear it on its broad bosom.  that is the law of life, the great secret which is so simple that only when we are crazed to the point of self-destruction do we recognize it.

                                                                                henry miller