All the Biscuits in Georgia

The movement of water can be therapeutic. Whether it’s the roar of the Toccoa, the mist flowing off Amicalola Falls, the meandering of the Ogeechee through Seven Mile Bend, or the slightly less dramatic trickle over the spillway on Berry College’s Mountain Campus, moving water can stimulate multiple senses. The sounds, sight, feel, and even smell stirred by this molecular compound of hydrogen and oxygen can calm, excite, soothe, and even intrigue the human mind. It can take us away from the hustle and bustle of traffic, pollution, and noise of the modern existence of our everyday routines. It can teach us the difference between sound and noise, movement and transportation, action and activity.

And while moving water has the awful capacity for vicious destruction, it has restorative powers as well. Taking time to appreciate what water is doing can return that piece of humanity that our reliance on machinery takes away. Just a moment to hear the rushing stream, feel the damp breeze off a waterfall, or watch the unhurried but powerful flow of a river meeting it’s estuary is a moment well spent.

There’s beauty in simplicity.