So much water.

It's as if I were standing on a bridge; in my imagination it's a small stone bridge and I'm leaning over the edge watching the flowing stream below.

The water is crystal clear and the pebbles, stones and undulations of the stream bottom are clearly visible.

Twigs, air bubbles, leaves, small fish and, sadly, polystyrene containers, paper, card and other junk all floating along together - the good with the bad.

It seems to me that the stream is my life.

And the water that briefly flows beneath me is like the present moment; and then it's gone headed towards the horizon between the banks of the stream.

The twigs and leaves represent the moments in my life that gave and give me joy.

And the junk represents just that - the junk in my life.

Sadly, as the moment flows on I can see the junk in the distance much more clearly than the twigs and leaves.

So today I am meditating on the steam that is my life and asking myself some important questions.

Is the water in the stream always polluted? No it's not. It was crystal clear until I or events added items to it.

Are the stream banks forever fixed? Of course not. The flowing stream can change it's course and so it is with my life - I can change it's course if I want to - and if I act.

Can I limit the amount of junk in the stream? Of course I can by simply filtering the junk out - and so it is with my life - I can filter out junk.

Is there any way that I can see a moment more clearly even once it has passed under the bridge? Sure I can - by journalling and by being sure to record the good moments rather than the junk; by journalling it's as if I were running along the banks of the stream watching a favoured twig or a beautiful fish.

We should all take a moment to look at the stream flowing under our bridge.