Going with the Flow

I just watched that six minute video clip of the tsunami that’s been circulating around the interwebs.

It was quite dramatic, but not in the Hollywood special effects kind of way. What I was most struck by was the quiet, impersonal way with which the water flowed down the street, taking with it small cars, at first, then large trucks, and entire buildings.

I found myself watching the deliberateness of the water — it almost seemed preordained, as if there was a well thought out game plan, a destination — and I thought, How does it know where to go?  Can water have a destiny?

(Just so there’s no confusion, let me be clear that I’m not going to a “It was God’s will,” place with this post.  I’m not suggesting there was any rhyme or reason to this.  In fact, I think more than anything, this just was.)

It’s surprisingly quiet.  As destructive as it was, there aren’t a lot of crashing sounds, no screaming from the onlookers.  There’s only the sound of waves, and the occasional, seemingly futile sirens in the background.  No one seems to be fighting it — really, what would be the point?

The water flows through, gaining strength as it increases in volume, demonstrating the kind of drive, organization, clarity of purpose, and undeniable effectiveness that we, as conscious beings, strive for — and often fail at — in so many of our trifling human campaigns.

I know it’s trite to to try to anthropomorphize a huge natural disaster like this one.  But, apparently, that’s where my head is at tonight.

I tend to take thing personally — bureaucracies, the weather, you name it.  (I’ve mentioned this before, I think.)  And lately, I’ve been thinking about death a lot.  (Again.  Still.)  When death comes knocking, we feel a natural sadness from the loss.  But we feel somewhat affronted too, I think.  Like, how could this happen to ME, or to US?

Watching this video, I started to wonder if death might not be just like that tsunami wave.  Forceful, uncompromising, but impersonal.  Just doing my job…