This essay is part of my book What She Knows – Volume II: Story Threads from Myth, Folklore, and Fairytales. To learn more about the book and order, please visit its official page here.
~ What rivers know is how the lost can return home ~
Drifting on rivers, we usually know where we’ll begin and where we’ll end; and yet on each day’s float, the river determines her rate of flow, her rhythm, falling fast over stones and pooling behind ledges, gathering leaves along her way and becoming little lakes on edges when she meets a fallen branch of wood.
She gifts us listening, watching, witnessing, questioning. We are offered a way to reflect, to be grateful, to be surprised, to be in awe. Moments and perhaps even answers that drift together through countless streams, moving us beneath the surface and soil of the natural world, and then merge us with the quietness of deeper waters.
And there are sounds. Some very clear, like moon or wind chimes.
There are two meanings of the word clarity: an ancient and modern one. The ancient one of Latin clarus meant clear sounding, ringing out, clear as bells or wind chimes. Ancient clarity gives us the lustrous, splendid, radiating light. The moon when she is full has this light. Snow too. The candle flame moving also. It’s a kind of light, like purity. Not held by definition, but by what is truly within one’s heart.
The modern clarity means transparent, free of dimness or blurring, free of confusion or doubt that can cloud thought. In this way we seek to see landscapes unobstructed, undimmed, each edge or line sharp and clearly defined, each surface coloured. It’s not just a seeking, it’s a need we have. A clarity like a gemstone.
But it’s good to see the landscapes with the ancient clarity also – to see the river speaking, gleaming with light that moves through time and space; and no matter if understood by us or not, we can just settle into the quiet pleasure of the flow and the gleaming present moment.
The river knows that even when she may sometimes look unclear or we don’t know whether we are going or how we’ll get there, she knows how all returns home – she knows in an ancient way.
In the old Bulgarian folk tale The Golden Girl, we follow the path of river, wisdom and grace, and the divine order that always takes place.
The Golden Girl, Bulgarian Folk Tale
The Golden Girl
A gentle girl with a beautiful heart and spirit lived with her stepmother and stepsisters, who didn’t treat her well and would make her work as their peasant in the ashes. Still the girl somehow shined. Jealous of her kindness and goodness, the stepmother sent the girl off to the woods and abandoned her there to roam darkness alone and never find her way back.
The girl walked scared and lost, until the moonlight shined a path for her towards an old magic house; within it lived a wise woman, some called her a sorceress, and she gave the girl three tasks to complete.
The first was to take care of the animals; and with loving care and hands the girl tended to them, fed them, bathe them, calmed them, no matter how scary and dirty some were.
The second task was to take care of the old woman; and so, the girl did with love also. She cooked her warm meals, and spoke with respect and kindness.
The third task was to take care of the house; again, with love, the girl did. She cleaned and tidied, with care and respect as she would treat all else, human and animal.
For her good deeds, the old woman took the girl to a river and said,
“Thank you for what you’ve done dear girl, now the river will pay you back what you hold in your heart.”
The river whispered in understanding, and when the girl dropped into the waters, all turned a beautiful bright golden colour. When she emerged, she was all shining of gold and holding a chest of gold coins and jewels.
The old woman showed the girl her way back home – but upon returning, the stepmother felt even more enraged and jealous of the gold coins and jewels, so she sent her own daughter to seek the magic woman, believing they’d have even more gold.
In the old woman’s house however, the unkind daughter showed her true colours by being mean, rude, arrogant and ungrateful for the shelter she was given. Without a word, calm and unbothered, the old woman took the girl to the river,
“Thank you for what you’ve done dear girl, now the river will pay you back what you hold in your heart.”
The river whispered in understanding, and as the girl was dropped in its waters, they turned all black, and the girl emerged with a chest. A chest in which, however, were all snakes and lizards.
When she returned home, the stepmother became so angry seeing her daughter without any gold coins; and not only that, but the girl was all painted in black mud from the river. No matter how much she bathed and washed herself, there was an aura around her from the fingers of negativity that she possessed in her own heart.
As for the golden girl: she continued to shine brightly even without the gold that the stepmother had already stolen from her. In fact, she shined so brightly, that her light reached the skies where a prince from a distant land lived. Upon seeing the golden light, he wandered in search for it. When he reached the village, the stepmother decided to trick him: she dressed her daughter in golden clothes, all with jewels, but again, her dark aura shone through.
Nothing could hide the true heart – and we all know this: we can never stray too far from who we are.
In time, the prince married the golden girl, despite the ashes in which she was covered, and it is said their love still shines as the moon and the stars above us – and we can see them no matter where we are – because her light hair like gold still shines, as the moon, as the sun, as the stars above us reminding us of the kind heart we should all be.
The old woman in the forest knows and masters the secrets of the river. She knows the way in which the lost can return home. And she justly balances the karmic scales.
We see how it is precisely in our difficulties and confusions that we can reveal who we truly are. When we approach with care, respect and kindness all, no matter if human, animal or house, we move into the rivers of grace. When we practice gratitude and appreciation even in our smallest gestures, we move into the waters of grace.
For ingratitude, however, retribution will come, because water remembers. Nothing can hide from water. It may not come when we think, but all comes, like the rivers of fate eventually. No deceptions will be enough to escape these rivers, for these rivers know the secrets of the heart, and what is beneath the shroud of our skins.
We can never stray too far from who we are. And this is something very apparent through the symbolisms of the tale. The negativity in the second girl’s heart is carried in her aura no matter how much she’d bathe herself after. Water remembers.
Love always reincarnates as love; and greed always reincarnates as greed. It’s never a new clean slate – it is only a continuation.
We all have our own rivers already; they have their own flow, their clarity, they lead us, we live within them. But we also hold a bowl in our hands. Within it is whatever we decide it. We can pour clear, pure water into our river, and it’d be clearer; or we can pour garbage.
Folk tales remind us that our true selves are most clearly shown and manifested when we encounter the unexpected, the unknown. It is for this reason that the characters often wander off in a foreign land. The trials in the unknown realms are what will shape us, reveal us, deepen us. They allow for a deepening. There are always choices to be made. And this will pave the destinies.
When we are faced with injustices, of course we should seek our rights and stand up for ourselves. We should also set clear boundaries in life, so that people don’t take advantage of us. And yet, still, injustices will happen. In these times, remember grace, remember what’s in your heart and what your values are; remember your guiding star, so that you don’t lose yourself.
Grace has many meanings though the movement is the same. In Christian religion context, it usually refers to the notion that God might grant us something unexpected, a gift, to bless us or save us. In Buddhism, a similar state exists, known as flow or grace, where we allow the natural flow of the universe, like water, like Tao. In Hinduism, devotional or bhakti literature references grace as the ultimate key to spiritual self-realization. And if we look at the word itself, grace has its Latin root of gratus, meaning grateful, which assumes a level of humility, kindness and compassion.
Grace gentle, moves like water, and it has an ancient clarity to it. The kind that is illuminating. Like an inner light. The purity of one’s heart.
Grace isn’t loud, isn’t claimed – it rests gently like butterfly wings on our shoulder, a touch so light yet we know something touched us.
And then it moves, like water, like sound, along its quiet devotion.
Because it carries ancient light, ancient clarity.
Because the river always remembers what we pour into it, and what brightness our heart holds.
Grace marries into itself love, compassion, devotion, kindness – and shapes them into human hands.
We all know this. When our own hands have been touched by someone else’s grace, they scent of its perfume long after. And then we may touch others’ too with this grace. And so, it all continues. No storms will ever cloud the skies of such love.
This essay is part of my book What She Knows – Volume II: Story Threads from Myth, Folklore, and Fairytales. To learn more about the book and order, please visit its official page here.
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For more of my writings, browse through my Art of Love.
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Cover photography by Jessie McCall.
