Thirsty, A Parable

How Christopher Learned to Ignore His Body

Imagine Christopher, a small child who lives in Vermont. His family’s big blue house has a yellow door and sits on a large piece of land with a grassy yard and a stream running through it. Christopher knows that water is evil. Actually, it’s not the water itself that’s evil, but the drinking of water that’s evil. Or maybe drinking water makes you evil. He isn’t quite sure exactly how it works because his grownups don’t like to talk about it, but he knows that drinking water is bad. Really bad. And if anyone ever found out that he drank water, or even that he wanted to drink water, they wouldn’t like him or want to be near him. Even worse than that, his parents might not want him anymore and even God would be mad at him. He isn’t even sure who God is, but the idea of him is kind of scary.

One summer when Christopher is eight years old, he is happily playing alone in the yard. His mother is inside baking pies, as she did sometimes. It would take all day long and she has no time for him that day. Christopher has a vivid imagination and is content to run around with his imaginary friends, skipping, jumping, tumbling, and climbing trees. On this particular day, the sun is shining and the temperature peaks at 94 degrees. Christopher is hot. More than that, he is thirsty. His mouth is dry, his throat is hot. He finds a piece of shade cast by a willow tree near the stream. He sits for a few moments, looking at the stream, listening to the water bouncing and bubbling over the rocky riverbed. He can feel the heat radiating off his skin. He feels tired and a little weak, if he’s honest. He could walk back to the house for some lemonade, but it’s so far away. Besides, his mother is in the kitchen and she will want him to help peel apples if he goes in there. He hates peeling apples.

Still sitting under the willow, he closes his eyes. What arises in him is undeniable. It’s a drive so profound, a thirst so deep, he needs to drink the water. His body is speaking to him loud and clear. He catches himself thinking about satisfying his body’s urge, reminding himself not to get in trouble. Confused, he walks over to the stream and sticks his feet in. That much he knows is allowed. His body immediately begins to cool down. Wading now with the water hitting him mid-shin, he bends over and splashes water on his arms and neck. He is elated. Soon, he finds himself cupping his hands and bringing water up to his face and letting it pour down his forehead and cheeks. He is absorbed in the moment, not a care in the world, he is fully present to the sensation of the cool, fresh stream water touching his skin. On his fifth or sixth scoop of water, without thinking, he brings his hands to his mouth and slurps down the water. The sensation of his body consuming the water is so deeply satisfying, it could almost be described as ecstatic. Everything about this moment is shouting “Yes!”

And then he stops. Christopher realizes what he is doing. His mind engages and thoughts flood in. Suddenly he vomits. All the water he just swallowed comes right back up. He begins to cry. He feels horrible in just about every way possible—physically, mentally, emotionally. He wants to run into his mother’s arms, but he can’t tell her what happened. He is afraid she will be mad. He is scared of something he cannot even find words for. His heart pounds and he a feels a tense darkness deep in his belly that rises to his chest if he thinks about it too long. The most confusing thing for Christopher is how something that feels so good could be so bad. How could his body thirst for the water in such an undeniable and compelling way if it is the wrong thing to do? Was his body wrong? Was his mother wrong? Was God wrong?

Christopher makes his way back to the house, tells his mom he doesn’t feel well, and goes to his room to lie down. He crawls in bed and quickly falls into a deep sleep. By the time he wakes for dinner, his experience that morning is a distant memory. In fact, he won’t remember it again until he is sitting in his therapist’s office thirty years later unraveling his inability to consume water without feeling nauseated and ashamed.