Although I may not relish the thought of being submerged in water, I love being around water, and it somehow seemed in sync with my life theme that week that Mingtong chose Chapter 8 of the Tao Te Ching to present that Saturday. As he had been doing, he offered his own literal and intuitive translations from Chinese to English of three versions of Chapter 8. Here’s one version, with additional translations/interpretations he added for some lines:

The greatest goodness is like water.
Water always nourishes everything and never competes.
Water always resides at the low place others avoid.
So water is almost like Tao.

居, 善地
Like nature of water, realized one is humble and respects others.
Know your right place and right direction, grounded like earth.
心, 善渊
Like depth of water, her mind is quiet and deep without bottom.
Ultimate kindness benefits life without asking anything back.
与, 善仁
Like kindness of water, she treats others with equality, trust, ultimately unconditional love.
Ultimate kindness benefits life without asking anything back.
言, 善信
Like cleansing of water, she speaks with truth.
正, 善治
Like selflessness of water, good leader leads others with pure motivation of benefiting all.
Like authenticity of water, she leads others by walking the talk.
Like the vastness of ocean, she leads others to unlimited potential.
事, 善能
Like water as source of nourishment and growth, life-benefiting action will always succeed. 
动, 善时
Like a stream, good “move” happens like spring following winter.

The greatest doesn’t compete
Therefore can never lose or worry.

There was much to contemplate and inwardly reflect upon, much to explore in beingness. And there was the realization for me that so much is taken for granted about water — the key ingredient of life in the Universe. How the surface of our magnificent blue Earth is the only planet made up of over 70% liquid water. How our own physical bodies, as a reflection of Earth, are composed of 70% water. And how we’ve been poor stewards of this phenomenal resource on our phenomenal planet.

Again, synchronistically, that same week, I was re-listening to an audiobook by one of my favorite authors, Donna Leon, who has written thirty-two books in her Commissario Guido Brunetti mystery series, which takes place in Venice, Italy. With the water theme that seemed to be flowing through my life, I wondered if any films had ever been made of her books, and I went online to do a search. I found there were eighteen separate episodes, each one from a different book, filmed between 2000 and 2012 in German with English subtitles. They were on a streaming venue called Mhz, which featured new and exclusive international mysteries, dramas and comedies. I was elated. Really. I can get elated over these kinds of things.

I won’t go into details here, but I will say that after the fourth film, they changed the actor that portrayed Brunetti, and the new actor, along with the rest of the cast, now lived up to my expectations of them as a reader, as did the screen writing. But a main reason for wanting to “see” this series was for a sense of what it would be like to live in Venice, the floating city.

Although the cinematography was superb, my water issues surfaced as I watched. I found myself feeling into living with no cars, police in boats, only water buses, water taxis, having to master moving back and forth from a floating vehicle to the impact of solid land. And then there was the acqua alta, when each year, water levels rise and seriously flood the city, something that, along with so many other environmental imbalances, has been getting worse. Although living in Venice was definitely not for me, I thoroughly enjoyed the series.

As I played with the ideas Mingtong offered, I found myself thinking of my interactions with water in a more conscious and expansive way. I became more aware of how integrating the essence and qualities of water as expressed in the Tao could enhance my life. Yet, the deeper fears around water that I’d carried with me probably over lifetimes were still there. At one point I remembered a poem I’d written a long time ago.

Borrowed Waters

This liquid prayer, this rolling
figment buoyant as a promise
in alluvial skin

this body, this salty swell
which holds a sea
within each potent drop
is not me.

Its currents toss my dreams;
its human tempests
stop my breath.

I’m not Undine. I haven’t born
a mortal child and won an earthly
soul.

               I am fairy and my fragile
wings are soaked with longing.
I cannot find my air. I cannot fly.
And hard as I have tried, I never
learned to swim.