Okay, I’ll just admit it. I have a Falls Fetish.
Now before you go labeling me as a weirdo or kinky, let’s discuss the actual definition of this word, fetish – from somewhere other than the Urban Dictionary. I’m going to default to Dictionary.com:
- An inanimate object worshiped for its supposed magical powers or because it is considered to be inhabited by a spirit.
- A course of action to which one has an excessive and irrational commitment.
Synonyms: idol – charm
I can’t seem to resist being drawn in by a waterfall. I’ll assume it’s the associated magical powers compelling me to come find it – – either that or my State Parks Waterfalls Google search. (One can never be too sure about these things.) Waterfalls do, after all, have a certain charm to them. And, on occasion, I’ve found myself being irrational concerning my commitment to get to one of them – sliding deep into a gorge, of which I’ve then had to spend an inordinate amount of time searching for muddy roots by which to pull myself back out; or perhaps dangling dangerously over a ledge to assure that some nosy tourist’s ear didn’t get in the way of my camera lens’ view. But I digress…
So there was this meet-n-greet at our church the other day, in which one of the new attenders mentioned that his wife had gotten him a waterfall map for our area, and I immediately began to either try to coerce him out of it or set up a hiking date. His wife seemed good with it – I think she understood the waterfalls were the actual attraction. Church – spiritual – maybe a little irrational in my course of action? See the connection with the actual definition that includes worshiping, spiritual inhabitance, excessive courses of action? Yep, it’s a fierce fetish.
And then there’s my novel, At the Water’s Edge. Bet you’d never guess that it has a waterfall in the setting that makes a wonderful centerpiece to an important part of the book’s context. Here’s Wil giving his Aintin Aoife (and now you) a worded image of this magnificent waterfall by his own memory’s recall:
“Me senses could na’ quite take it all in – the scents o’ the blossoms, the harmony o’ the waterfall with distant birds’ calls, the vibrant colors more powerful than any I’d e’er before seen, the warmth o’ the sun mixed with the refreshin’ coolness o’ the water. ‘Twas sech an awesomeness ‘bout it – ‘til I realized I was there alone. I had this fleetin’ thought then. It occurred ta’ me that ‘twasn’t mech of a gift if I didst na’ have someone with which ta’ share it.”