by Suzanne Eaton
He gave me the most alluring water fountain–tan rocks and blue crystals layered on a bed of sparkling sand. The water pooled and swirled from side to side and fell from minature pools to medium-sized pools before spilling into the lower basin and returning to the top.
For years it sat on my desk, surrounded by delicate plants that seemed to flourish in the babbling sounds that it made. In the background of my day, I could always hear the water moving over the little rocks. Sometimes it seemed to trickle, other times it would rush and then flow softly, but it always sounded alive and passionate.
The plants and I were a bit more alive as its constant vibrations sang to our souls. Others would stop by my office, pause and breathe in the calm. Prayers of the heart seemed to wash up and thoughts became crystal clear. Every week, I cleaned it, filled it and plugged it back in. When I pushed the button on the power strip it was renewed as was I.
I set the fountain aside one day to make room on my desktop for tear sheets that came from the press. Just out of sight, I did not notice as it began to gather dust. My project grew and the plants and fountain moved again–across the room–I dusted and filled it less frequently. The plants flourished, but sounds of the life-giving water were far off and I could not drink them in. In time, dust and hard water deposits stole its beauty.
It ran dry as I looked the other way and busied myself with the matters of the office. One day, I boxed up the little fountain, “just for a while,” and one-by-one, my plants turned inside out and died. I plugged in a radio where the fountain had been and allowed its vibrations to set my subliminal ebb and flow. –Without even noticing, I too ran dry—serenity and peace were fleeting and the songs on the radio seemed to soak up energy rather than provide it.
I searched for hope in empty lyrics and topical chatter and every distraction that came through my door seemed strident and unwelcome. Momentary prayers seemed to fall flat to the floor, no one paused to sit with me and smile. It was as if I was unplugged and in turth, I became less productive—I could not access my power strip.
I left the job, we moved away, and I began setting up a smaller office. While unpacking, I opened a box to find the muted, dusty fountain. I remembered the peace and stillness it brought—I longed for its fresh and rapturous sound. A remembrance of grace filled my soul and I knew that I was unplugged from my living water—suffering from an inner drought. My wiring was brittle and just like the plants, I’d wilted and dropped my leaves.
Years had passed since those thriving days when the plants and I were green and content. But, as I started the fountain soaking in water-scale remover, hope returned. Urgently, I sought to plug in, to drink and cleanse my soul—revive in life-giving water. The vibrations of a higher power could surely help me renew. I prayed for the clarity and strength to flip the switch on my own power strip–for what good is an empty fountain—set aside and dry?
Suzanne S. Eaton is an author and marketing consultant. She has written many corporate stories and magazines. She authored the book “Chinese Herbs,” reprinted by Harmony Press seven times. In her early days of writing, she was the first woman to get a feature article in Off Road Magazine and has been published in various magazines and anthologies. Most recently, Down in the Dirt Magazine, Writer Shed Stories and Seaborne Magazine have selected her work for publication.
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