Lately, it's been after-lunch story time with Sam & Lydia. We are working our way through the REAL Pooh Stories. I adore these writings...just listen...
By the time it came to the edge of the Forest, the stream had grown up, so that it was almost a river, and, being grown-up, it did not run and jump and sparkle along as it used to do when it was younger, but moved more slowly. For it knew now where it was going, and it said to itself, "There is no hurry. We shall get there some day." But all the little streams higher up in the Forest went this way and that, quickly, eagerly, having so much to find out before it was too late.
I envy the carefree energy of the stream and the peaceful steadiness of the river, with it's carefree nature of a different sort.
...and later...
(after being consoled by Piglet) Pooh began to feel a little more comfortable, because when you are a Bear of Very Little Brain, and you Think of Things, you find sometimes that a Thing which seemed to very Thingish inside you is quite different when it gets out into the open and has other people looking at it.
I understand Pooh's vulnerability at having other people look at his thoughts. It all makes sense when it's inside. It's the getting it out that sometimes puts things out of order...at that point I wish I was more like the river.
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