River Talk

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I read somewhere that we remember just five minutes of what we learn in high school. My memorable five minutes took place during an 11th grade English class when we discussed the symbolism of the river in Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha.

“The river looked at him with a thousand eyes—green, white, crystal, sky blue. How he loved this river, how it enchanted him, how grateful he was to it! In his heart, he heard the newly awakened voice speak, and it said to him, ‘Love this river. Stay by it. Learn from it.’”

Why did I recall that rivers symbolize rebirth, the flow of life and unity? Perhaps it’s because I’ve been drawn to rivers and streams since early childhood, starting with the skinny Snake Brook that ran behind my first home. In summer, I’d take off my Keds and wander up and down the hard, sandy bed marveling at how the sun glinted off the water as it parted around my feet. I don’t believe I ever left that stream without intentionally falling in.

I lost touch with the power of rivers after shelving Siddhartha. No time to splash around rivers with my life dedicated to a résumé. A résumé with gaps does not go over well in the American workforce, so I followed the advice of guidance counselors. Go to college, pick a career, go to graduate school, get a first job, climb the career ladder rungs. I stayed on that rigid career path until June 2002, when I lost my Marketing & PR position. On that rainy day, my much-younger new boss of three months called me into his office. I’d been downsized, made redundant, chosen to walk the corporate plank. Angry and hurt, I cried me a river of self-pity on the drive home. Eight years of making impossible deadlines. Eight years of eating rubbery cafeteria food. Eight years of jumping to attention when the company president walked by. And all I had to show for it was 13 weeks of severance pay and a cardboard box filled with a map of the world, a “teamwork” glass paperweight award and a pair of old running sneakers.