It is the beginning of Advent, and here in Michigan, it is the beginning of winter weather, too.
Today, water falls in an opaque sheathe across the window in my living room. This only happens when the wind comes from the east. Then the intersection of clear glass and clear water combine to make a curdled veil.
What does water not like about being disturbed? If you hold it perfectly still, it is perfectly clear. But if you throw it, or stir it, or pour it, it becomes a froth.
Am I like water? Do I need the stillness to see? Do I become a destructive force when there is too much of me, when I am frozen, when I am tossed about? They say, after all, that humans are over 65% water. Maybe I should study my properties more closely this Advent.