and being that it is the kind of rainy, cold, autumnal day that I love, I decided to grab the umbrella, and go for a walk round the park. As I wended my way over the tree lined dirt path at a brisk clip, I let my mind wander to what it is that is making me in as shitty a mood as I am, and I could feel the tenseness, the agitation churning from within. And I became angrier still, but this time at myself. I mean, here I was, out in what is for me wonderful surroundings, and I was allowing my anger and hurt and everything else to cast a dark stain over it all. And I walked on with what I knew to be a scowl on my face( what a lovely sight that must have been!), came to that part of the park that houses the pond, walked round it twice, wallowing in my shittiness, and on my third quick- paced pass, I stopped. Dead in my tracks, just stopped, standing there still as a stone, save for my eyes that were taking in the whole of the water, intently watching the ripples that the raindrops were making, watching the upstart gusts of wind create mini white cap -like waves upon the water's surface, just watching. And listening to absolutely nothing. And breathing in the cool fall air deeply in deliberate, deep measured breaths. And there I stayed for what seemed a long time, but really was only a matter of about 15 minutes or so, and I felt my anger and hurt and disappointment and all else negative housed deep and near the surface within me dissipate, like the fog that eventually burns off after morning's time. God, I felt better; no resolution had been reached, as I was alone, but I guess a solitary resolution was more important for that tick of time. I bent my head a bit, adjusted my umbrella, and walked on, much more slowly now,intending to take the path to the right that would take me home , but instead followed the dirt to the left, crossed the street, and did a turn through the graveyard, stopping only to let my fingers rest on that mossy patch on that old stone wall, feeling it's soft, squishy, comforting wetness, and allowing myself to let go of more. And being that I was thoroughly soaked now, as my umbrella is a pretty lame model, I sat on that favourite wall of mine in that favourite part of that favourite cemetery, and with the rain of an October 10th not uncomfortably seeping into my every pore, I wondered why it was that water has such a calming affect. Not so much the rain itself, but bodies of water; no matter if it is the grandeur of the Atlantic, the mystery of a large lake that you know you'll only barely get to know, or my small pond in my beautiful park, something about water is quite magical in it's ability to heal. To make clear the confusion. I don't need to even touch the water to reap what it offers up. I guess my brief sojourn by the pond helped to empty out the most poisonous blackness that resides in the hole that is created in my heart whenever pain is felt, sadness experienced, or intense anger known. I picture that hole as being deep and cavernous in it's blackness, and it initially fills fast, which is I suppose, to be expected. But if left unchecked, it roils and seethes until it erupts sporadically, and unfortunately, my wrath hath no precise path. It is an ugly thing to behold, the eruptions of whatever it is that is hurting randomly attacking, causing more and more of what is not necessary nor deserved, until I can no longer stand myself , and that's when I know that if I cannot confront the arbiter of the news that caused the pain, then I must find a way to exorcise it, in another form. I may not always know what exorcism will work; it's not as if I consciously say to myself, "Off to the pond for a session!", but for some reason, today it was what was needed, and it worked. I still have stuff to work out and work on, and the hurt is still there, but that blinding anger that I had allowed to grip me like a cold, hard vise had now condensed into so many droplets that glided from sky to hair, and fell harmlessly to the ground about my feet.