When my head is full and my heart is hurting, I need the lake. I need the lake because it claps and waves and pours out. It is music and art and an open willingness. When I think I've figured it all out and my end answers bring pain, the lake laughs with its ever-changing redemption, rolling over the rocks and springing up, alive like its breathing and talking. The great pretender, the lake says watch this, and then steals the thunder from the sky and tosses up some rain.
I need the lake because it is proof. That there is always a washing away and a miracle.