The river a story by Jonathan Bowler

The River

Jonathan Bowler

The river has a way of carrying all it touches downstream, around the next bend and off into the unknown.The river does not discriminate as to its passengers and will gladly take anything its powerful flow can persuade to accompany it. Putting in, I began a relationship with the river, an understanding that acknowledged the bond that I was about to make.

The river told me in a patient, soothing, unconcerned voice that I may accompany him on the journey to the sea; that we would pass through the canyons of the desert, the same path he had been using for millions of years.The river knows the land through which he travels, they have been friends since the beginning of time and he asks that I walk the shores in the same way that he carries me down stream, showing the same respect. He is a wonderful companion, and after a few hours, his soothing voice has persuaded me to leave the world behind, to relax and enjoy the company of the canyons and the river and all that dwell within. He takes my thoughts, worries, schedules, and preoccupations down deep to the river bed and sends them away. I don’t need them anymore. He says I will find new concerns easily enough when we part ways, but when I am with him they have neither use nor worth.

Lying on the shore at night, I hear his pulse, the beating of his heart, and I can see his surface swell with each breath he takes. All night he tells tales of times past and times to come. His deep, soft, rhythmic voice is powerful, passionate, poetic; speaking to anyone who cares to listen, yet telling each listener a story of their own, a gift from the river. The next morning, I say goodbye to the river and walk away from his water into the canyons of the desert.

The canyons have been watching me travel with the river from a distance. They have been calling to me since the moment I stepped onto their shores, urging me to walk in the embrace of her towering walls. It is time that I oblige the siren and head her call. Much different than the river, the canyon speaks to me in seductive whispers, barely audible, yet unmistakable in their message. “Come deeper, explore my hidden passages and I will show you beauty beyond words”. I listen, knowing that although she is a seductress, she speaks the truth. The canyon is not modest and true to her word, soon shows me what beauty truly is. I am filled with feelings of passion, love, and compassion, and the further I travel, the more she reveals to me, until I can bear it no longer, yet want infinitely more. It is the riddle of the canyon, the paradox that surrounds her, she is a trickster, constantly changing, created by powerful, immense amounts of what she so obviously lacks: water.

I return to the river, he laughs, he too knows of the canyon’s seductive nature, of her tricks, it is his water that travels through her, caressing her soft sandstone skin. I am glad to be back, I missed the storytelling, the serenity of the river, calming me after the passionate embrace of the canyon. Tonight I sleep on the shores hearing both the canyon’s whisper and the river’s stories. Tomorrow I will once again travel with the river, letting him take me further on, to more adventures and new canyons.

The desert is home to ancient spirits, each with their own stories. To the hurried or preoccupied traveler, these stories go unnoticed. The river teaches us to listen carefully, to allow the spirits to tell their tales and, in time, we may become a part of the story.

Copied and used with permission by

Jonathan Bowler

Program in Ecology

Department of Geography

Haub School of Environment and Natural Resources

University of Wyoming

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