Yesterday I rented a kayak. I love to take pictures while hiking and thought kayaking photography would be like hiking photography, only on water. It was not. Usually, I walk around the subject to find a good angle. That’s tricky in a kayak. And by “tricky,” I mean impossible. As the current carried me past something interesting, I paddled backward. I clawed and snagged tree limbs with a (sort of) free hand, yet nothing would slow me down. At one point, there was an intriguing root system. I attempted to slow my movement with one foot, one hand and a paddle jammed into the tangle of roots. I juggled my phone with the other hand while trying to focus and frame the image as the current pulled the boat sideways. I looked at the edge of the kayak and realized the upriver edge was being pulled down slowly and steadily. The water was powerful. I understood that if I didn’t let go, I was going to tip over. One can’t win a battle with the River.
I let go and the rushing water sound softened. The direction of the kayak changed. The powerful water was calm. All resistance ceased. I floated peacefully. What a difference. Peace versus a battle to stay upright. I modified my plan—no more pictures. I would drift, steering a bit to stay on course and enjoy seeing whatever there was to see. It wasn’t worth losing my phone and other belongings in the water. And so it was. It was nice to rest on the water as the vessel was pulled gently downstream. Eventually, I rounded a bend and there was a still area to the side of the moving water. The kayak slipped easily into the beautiful spot. Maneuvering was effortless in the slack water and I captured a beautiful image.
Elation followed this unplanned victory; I couldn’t help but think about the lesson. A big lesson. A life lesson. I might discover something that amuses me and latch onto it, giving it more importance than it deserves. I can fight to hold it tight, nearly capsizing in the process, or I can simply enjoy the experience and let it go. I can move with the current, steering enough to stay on course, all the while being open and ready to slip effortlessly into that quiet space that holds magic.
You are right, Dad. The River is wise.