"St. Croix River Meditation" (Image & Text Copyright Wylddane Productions, LLC)
This morning, as the sun gently crested the tree line and painted the sky with soft hues, I found myself once again drawn to the river. I have always been pulled toward water—whether it's the mighty ocean, a quiet lake, a secluded pond, or a bubbling stream. But it is the river that calls me most insistently. Perhaps because it is always in motion, yet somehow still. Always becoming, yet always being.
The St. Croix River is one of my favorite places on this Earth. This ancient waterway flows not just through land, but through memory, history, and soul. Formed more than a billion years ago, shaped by fire and ice, its path has been carved by time and marked by stories. Long before settlers arrived, the Ojibwe and Dakota peoples lived by these waters, listening to the language of the river, gathering rice from its banks, casting lines for fish, hunting game in the forest nearby. Their stories still echo in the breeze through the trees, and in the ripple of water along the wooden dock where I now sit.
Here, alone but never lonely, I absorb the rhythm of the river. Its slow, deliberate current speaks of strength—strength not through force, but through endurance. I close my eyes, breathe deeply, and let its quiet song settle over me. The chaos of the world slips away. The noise recedes. And I am reminded of something deeper. Something eternal.
“My memories are the gossamer threads of my life experiences, each strand tying one experience to another to weave a tapestry that is the picture of my life.
Each recollection connects my past experiences with the present. Some are tender, some can make me laugh, and some might bring a tear to my eye.
I give thanks for lessons learned, relishing the happy times and blessing and releasing any unhappy ones. All form the fiber of my being. They comprise the sum total of who I am, how I respond to present circumstances, and how I weigh the decisions I make for the future."
~ Anonymous
The river, like memory, flows in both directions at once—carrying me forward, yet anchoring me in what has been. I watch the reflections on the surface and realize they are much like the thoughts within me: some clear, some murky, some darting like fish in the depths.
We live in turbulent times. The voices of hate are loud. The winds of fear howl in the distance. But here, on this Saturday morning by the water, I know that this is not the full story. Just as the river has witnessed eons of change and still flows on, so too does the arc of the Universe bend—not toward division, but toward peace, love, and acceptance.
This morning meditation is not an escape. It is a return. A remembering. A sacred pause in the current of life where I rediscover who I am and what matters. And in that stillness, I find strength.
I rise with gratitude. The river still flows.
“Let the waters settle and you will see the moon and the stars mirrored in your own being.”
~Rumi
~Wylddane
The St. Croix River is one of my favorite places on this Earth. This ancient waterway flows not just through land, but through memory, history, and soul. Formed more than a billion years ago, shaped by fire and ice, its path has been carved by time and marked by stories. Long before settlers arrived, the Ojibwe and Dakota peoples lived by these waters, listening to the language of the river, gathering rice from its banks, casting lines for fish, hunting game in the forest nearby. Their stories still echo in the breeze through the trees, and in the ripple of water along the wooden dock where I now sit.
Here, alone but never lonely, I absorb the rhythm of the river. Its slow, deliberate current speaks of strength—strength not through force, but through endurance. I close my eyes, breathe deeply, and let its quiet song settle over me. The chaos of the world slips away. The noise recedes. And I am reminded of something deeper. Something eternal.
“My memories are the gossamer threads of my life experiences, each strand tying one experience to another to weave a tapestry that is the picture of my life.
Each recollection connects my past experiences with the present. Some are tender, some can make me laugh, and some might bring a tear to my eye.
I give thanks for lessons learned, relishing the happy times and blessing and releasing any unhappy ones. All form the fiber of my being. They comprise the sum total of who I am, how I respond to present circumstances, and how I weigh the decisions I make for the future."
~ Anonymous
The river, like memory, flows in both directions at once—carrying me forward, yet anchoring me in what has been. I watch the reflections on the surface and realize they are much like the thoughts within me: some clear, some murky, some darting like fish in the depths.
We live in turbulent times. The voices of hate are loud. The winds of fear howl in the distance. But here, on this Saturday morning by the water, I know that this is not the full story. Just as the river has witnessed eons of change and still flows on, so too does the arc of the Universe bend—not toward division, but toward peace, love, and acceptance.
This morning meditation is not an escape. It is a return. A remembering. A sacred pause in the current of life where I rediscover who I am and what matters. And in that stillness, I find strength.
I rise with gratitude. The river still flows.
“Let the waters settle and you will see the moon and the stars mirrored in your own being.”
~Rumi
~Wylddane
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