Running across the shoreline on a sandy beach, jumping into the freezing waters and splashing the wetness onto your face with open palms tingling the skin and refreshing the body, invigorating the heartbeat, coldness to awaken Sleeping Beauty from her long dreamy sleep. Rip Van Winkle slept for 100 years until he splashed on this precious natural chlorine-less water that fell from the sky into a lake basin below, water like manna falling from the heavens, chilling temperatures causing it to be a stimulant, witch's hazel smeared onto the cheeks, clean water without soap moistening the eyes, a beach that is a second heaven, a lake of water that anoints sinners and makes them pure again.
Freezing ice blocks forming at the lake's edge, stomping onto them crushing them and digging holes in them with the heel of your boot, breaking off a piece of ice and sailing on it out towards the middle of the lake, an island in a vast expanse of cold water, pitching a white flag of surrender into the center of the ice, surrendering up all attempts to get back to shore, sailing on a journey to wherever it takes you, far out into the middle of the lake, one man, one block of ice, with water all around him, then paddling back to shore, a story, a fable to share, an adventure of a cold winter morning, all imagined as you never left the shore, it was all in your dreams all in your head.
Feeling renewed, waters providing a natural mikvah, putting thoughts of loving-kindness into the brain that were not there before, thinking new refreshing stimulated thoughts sprinkled and purified with holy icy pure lake water.
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