Haunted by Water

By Shawn Blackney 

I am haunted by water.  It is everywhere.  Clear.  Clean.  Cold.  Refreshing. 

Haunting.

When I wake in the morning I am a mere ten steps from my first of many glasses of the crystal clear liquid.  I spend fifteen minutes in the shower with it running over my body and down the drain and out to the ocean.  I am covered in water.  The amount of water that runs down the sink as I brush my teeth would be enough to sustain a life for another day.  At work, my desk is twenty-five paces from the nearest always-ready flow of nature's best.  In the evening, I watch my two year old son splash and play in six inches of this precious resource.

At the counter of the local restaurant I am made to feel as though I am making a lesser choice by opting for water from the tap.  Always one to reach for false piety, I reject the offer of a lemon wedge for my sophisticated taste buds.  As I help prepare the evening meal, I shoot glances toward the bottle of pinot noir on my kitchen counter.  I open my liquor cabinet only to gaze at the warm brown liquid winking at me with shimmering brilliance.  I smile as if to say, "Only 20 more days," and refill my mason jar full with another twelve ounces from the kitchen sink.

I feel trapped in a prolonged water boarding only it's spread out over several weeks of daily baptisms in consciousness.  I cannot escape the constant availability.  It is all around me.  It washes over me like lapping waves.

Ghosts are a peculiar thing.  Sometimes they manifest as apparitions - at every turn, around every corner.  Other times it is the eeriness of knowing there is something there but haunted by it's not there-ness.  As I am haunted by water's omnipresence there are millions tormented by the absence.  Since embarking on this Lenten experiment, as noted previously, I now am fully aware of how abundant water is in my life and conversely how lacking this precious resource is for so many in this world.  Among them, mothers trying to quench the thirst of children knowing the water she offers will most likely make them sick. 

I can no longer see water, feel water, and drink water without being aware of its absence in so many lives.  I am haunted by water, only now in more ways than one. 

For this I am grateful.

- Shawn Blackney lives in Nashville, TN and works in music at EMI. Read more of his thoughts at his blog: http://dirtwrites.tumblr.com/

- Photos by Josie from her "40 Days of Water Art" Flickr page