Taking Time to Re-center
The work days have been long. The hours in the single room apartment are too many. The city has a continual noisy hum one cannot escape. I needed to re-center.
John Muir whispered in my ear. “Keep close to Nature’s heart… and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.”
So I did. The mountains were too far to visit. A week escape was not possible. But a few hours floating in the kayak watching the natural world and the setting sun were within reach.
The fishing rods remained on the truck rack. With only my thoughts and camera, I pushed off the gravel bank and began my slow paddle. The southerly winds slightly rippled the water. The bright sun in the cloudless sky baked my exposed neck.
Beginning my paddle, I floated toward an abandoned house boat, recklessly tossed about from storms passed. She sat motionless marooned half on the muddy bank and half remaining in the water for where she was built. Her reflection spoke of a party filled past. With her best times behind, she has been left to slowly decay at the mercy of the rain, sun and winds.
On the far side of the cove, moored a sail boat with her mast at full attention patiently waiting for her next sailing adventure.
Which am I, the sailboat with adventure ahead, or am I the houseboat run aground and in decay?
Farther up the creek, the creek bank closed in. Off to my left resided a swamp. The smells of decaying organic matter, (food for the new growth) filled my nostrils. To my right the steep bank with exposed roots of beech trees defined the channel. I continued slowly exploring and absorbing the sights, sounds, and smells of the natural world surrounding me.
A monster from the deep appeared. A beast from the past. I focused the camera, adjusted the settings and captured the monster on film. With the incoming tide, he will once again disappear, returned to the depths. Is that where our monsters of the past belong? Knowingly there, but unseen except for those few minutes during a low tide.
An osprey took flight from his roost high in a long dead, but still standing tall swamp oak. His long sharp talons grasped his catfish dinner. I wondered, “How many failed attempts of diving head first at full speed did he suffer through before capturing his meal?”
“It is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed.” Theodore Roosevelt answered.
I reached the end of the creek. The sun was low in the sky. The tide had turned. I piloted the kayak for my return. Against the tide I dug the paddles deep. The time of a leisure float was behind. To make progress, I needed to dig deep and pull.
Reaching the end of the journey, I witnessed the setting of the sun and another day. What once was today had become yesterday. What I had done was behind. What lay ahead was open water yet experienced. Experiences I aim to take head first at full speed, just as the osprey.
