Today I am walking in a different garden, a mountain forest garden.  There are a few human enhancements: a paved path and a bench here and there, but for the most part this garden remains as God planted it.  There are ponderosa pines, rocks, fallen needles, and an occasional wild flower.  A rushing river runs through it, gushing with melted snow from the peak above in the distance.  White-capped water tumbles over boulders and hurries on its way.  I am reminded of the beautiful words that Jesus spoke to the woman at the well: “The water that I will give will become … a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.”  The ‘living water’ that he promised is traditionally associated with the water that gushed from his side, along with his blood, when he was pierced by the soldier after his death on the cross.  And of course, it also refers to the Holy Spirit, who is given and sealed in our souls at the Sacrament of Baptism.  I am fascinated by the mystery of living water, the gift of God’s very being to his creation.