The Flow of the River, by Loren Eiseley Essay

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When reflecting and writing on Eiseley’s essay and the “magical element”, I balk. I think to myself, “What magic?”, and then put pen to page. I dubiously choose a kiddie pool to draw inspiration from, and unexpectedly, inspiration flows into me. As I sit here in this little 10x30 foot backyard, the sky is filled with the flowing gaseous form of water, dark patches of moist earth speckle the yard, the plants soak up their scattered watering, and the leaves of bushes and trees imbue the space with a sense of dampness from their foliage. As my senses tune into the moisture that surrounds me, I fill Braedon’s artificial pond with water. I stare at the shimmering surface, contemplating Eiseley’s narrative, and the little bit of life’s…show more content…
Of all the ways Eiseley imparts his impressions of water and the manner its magic impregnates the world, the one not mentioned is the most intriguing to me. The way he was moved to write about water because of its relationship to his past, is waters definitive magic. The concept of water was the vehicle that transported his feelings to thoughts, and from thoughts to his narrative. He found enchantment where others would have just found a mundane substance. He even writes, “…the enormous mindlessness of space settles down upon the soul.” There are others that would contend that there is more magic in the cosmos than in water, but there is a resonance that is stirred in Eiseley, by water’s magic. When I sit and think about water, these are some sentiments that stream from me: water, an oasis of cool relief for my throat, when sand dunes and wandering Bedouin nomads migrate on the desert of my tongue; the last days of elementary school when the tease of a late spring swim hints at the summer to come, and the time spent slipping the bonds of my corporeal existence, floating in that ethereal substance; of the cool shade of broad leafed trees drawing water up to their verdant canopy to their aquatic reservoir, sharing a respite from the unforgiving heat of an afternoon sun. Water flows through most of my happiest

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