Ripples In Still Water
I sat gazing across Jordan Pond in Acadia, under stunning blue sky, with sunshine that did not provide warmth against the continuous chilly breeze blowing across the lake. I was watching the ripples march across in front of me, with the cold sunlight filtering through to make dancing waves of brightness and shadow across the rocks beneath the clear water. As I watched the ripples, my eyes clouded, and my inner ear heard the song lyrics:
Reach out your hand, if your cup be empty
If your cup is full, may it be again
Let it be known there is a fountain
That was not made by the hands of men
"Ripple" is an old Grateful Dead song, and was a favorite of my brother Joe. At every family gathering, the guitars would come out—Joe, our dad, and me, in the living room or around a campfire in the yard—and at some point, Joe would sing Ripple, while I accompanied on the guitar and Dad took a break. There were lots of songs we did together, but some were just Dad's, some were mine, and some were Joe's, and he sang this particular song with deep feeling. Joe died in 2014, and I miss him very much.
There is a road, no simple highway
Between the dawn and the dark of night
And if you go, no one may follow
That path is for your steps alone
Sitting alone at the edge of Jordan Pond, lost in the ripples that danced before my eyes, I felt other ripples: ripples of memory, of joyous times, rich with song and laughter, and also of deepest sorrows, pierced with crippling grief. My life has been immensely blessed with good fortune, loving family, and tremendous beauty. And then come cold ripples of time to carry so much away, so that now, the path I walk is for my steps alone.
If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung
Would you hear my voice come through the music?
Would you hold it near as it were your own?
My hope for all of you out there is that you find beauty and joy in the ripples, and please, hold the people you love near to you whenever you can.