” God is a great underground river that no one can dam up and no one can stop.”
~Meister Eckhart, 13th century mystic

Over the last several days I have been watching the river freeze. On my morning drive into the church, I have been aware of the slow, yet deliberate, ice that has been forming on the Mississippi River. For those of you who might think this ranks right up there with watching paint dry or grass grow, I beg to differ.

First of all, more than a week ago there were small, circular groupings of ice pieces. They seemed to want to hang out together in the middle of the river. The ice floes moved downriver with a slow, meditative pace. I am sure there was some ice at the edges of the river but for the most part the ice was gathered in these little mandalas of frozen water moving in a Zen-like fashion.

Today, everything was much different. Vast sections of the river now are covered with a solid sheet of ice. What is interesting is that these icy sheets are mostly at the bends of the river. The curves that make up the landscape between Minneapolis and St. Paul are punctuated with glistening ice that moves swiftly into moving water. I have no idea why the ice freezes in this particular way. But I am fascinated by the pattern and process.

As I was cruising along this morning, one eye on the road, careful of the slick spots caused by this weekend’s snowfall, and the other on the process of ice formations, I began to think about the strength of the still flowing water beneath and between this ice. This is a mighty river and I have seen its force and fury many times. Certainly that same power is still present. It has just collided with other powerful forces. Things like temperature, sunlight, darkness, the rhythm of the seasons.

All this ice-gazing, of course, caused me to think of how sometimes in my life things seem to be frozen in time. Or at least at a standstill with ice forming and knocking about and into my best laid plans. In those paths that have taken a turn this way or that, something powerful moves in and paralyzes whatever dream I held or hope that had such promise. These circumstances seem to derail, not only my action, but my spirit. Does this at all sound familiar to you?

But what I often forget at frozen times like these is that there is a powerful strength that moves beneath all the icy formations. Perhaps the curves or twists have held something captive and stopped me in my tracks but the breath, the creative spark, the sheer will, still moves around and past whatever is frozen in me. Sometimes it is only a matter of relaxing into the moment, of not forcing something that is not yet ready to be born. Other times it is the wisdom to hitch myself to ‘the Great Underground River’ that the Christian mystic Meister Eckhart speaks of. To allow my hopes and dreams to be carried by a force greater than myself.

At some point very soon all traffic on the river will be halted for the winter. Come to think of it, this may already have happened. I have not seen a barge making its way up or down the river for some time. When that time comes, the only prudent and logical thing to do is to stop and wait for the right moments of spring to begin to move the waters once again. The rhythm of this resting and waiting is firmly embedded in the wisdom of the way the world works.

Until then my work and the river’s is to learn from what has come to a standstill and to remember the powerful current that flows beneath and within.