Somewhere – perhaps at a mountain – the river originates. And then it flows across the land to the sea. Along the way, it passes through the lives of people, plants and animals – picking things up, leaving things behind, being part of the landscape and reflecting it. It just keeps rolling along, as the jazz song suggests. And I yearn to roll right along with it – to be in it and part of it, from the source, to where it enters the ocean. Just how much does it see? Just how deep does it go? Just how old is it, and how old will it still get?