I’m lying on the bottom of a canoe. The vast sky remains constant, but the clouds don’t fly by as quickly as I know I’m going. I can just see the longer branches of the trees hanging low over the river, brushing the periphery of my vision as I go past them. I’m swept up in the current.
On the bank, there are things that clamor for my attention. There are the blog posts to write and the lovely favorite blogs to read. There is the budgeting to do, the filling in of gaps left in our budget by plane tickets, taxes, construction. I don’t know how we will do that, but I’m not too worried. I’m already leaving it all behind with my canoe. There is the kitchen to clean and the laundry to wash and fold. I can never seem to bring a task to completion – the current carries me along too fast for that.
There are the doctors appointments to make, the numerous friends and family to return calls to, e-mails to. I don’t give them much thought as I pass by – I would be too overwhelmed if I did. In a vision, Young Knight interrupts me and tries to grab the broom out of my hand to beat the rose bush and get his ball. I slap his hand away and immediately regret it. He cries. I apologize and hug him – the current sweeps me along.
There is this feeling of desolation as I can’t seem to keep up with the rapids the canoe carries me over. Just as I go over one and regain my equilibrium, another one waits for me ahead. I can’t retrieve my lost energy, and my youth is fleeting before I ever have hope to get it back.
I consider solutions, exits – a job? Another degree? Acting? What will give me my joy back, the strength to go over the rapids on my own terms? I’m not sure there is a solution – perhaps just a new character, but that’s not easily for the taking. I’m still lying down, the rapids are behind me now; my head sways gently with the current and my stomach lurches comfortably with the movement.
What’s this under me? An oar.
I force myself to sit up, every muscle groaning at the effort. I half-heartedly direct the canoe towards the bank, towards the trees. It moves quickly and it’s hard to fight against the current. Ahead is a fork in the river, almost imperceptible as the trees fight to protect their secret.
On the right-hand side is a much narrower river, a gentler current, almost non-existent. I steer towards the easy current and suddenly slow down to a gentle roll as I enter it. I put my oar down and lie back down, contented. Out of my periphery, I see a house up ahead. It looks comforting, familiar. I see my family waving excitedly on the bank. I smile to myself and wave feebly back with no intention of pulling over. But it is not to be.
“Maman! Maman! Maaaaamaaaaan!”
“Moooooom! MA!”
“Ih wull be what for dinner?”
* This post originally appeared in my former blog, Perfect Welcome, and may contain some modifications or discrepancies in the names or comments.
Sometimes one just needs to step back and just observe the emotions. Taking a short break from ones daily routine is nourishment to your spirit.
Found your blog via Mr London Street. Looking forward to catching up on back posts soon.
Wow. That was therapeutic for me as well. Honestly, I feel so much more relaxed. I like the symbolism at the end. Besides getting back to your life, I envisioned: "All currents bring you to the ones you love."
Lovely post. It even made me feel more relaxed about all the things that are perpetually hanging over my head. That is, until the end, when real life comes back in the form of, "What's for dinner?"
I feel the woosh of rapids in my life too. And it reminds me of a real rapids I once went down. Our family friend told us that the current would pull us in towards a big boulder and then we must fight our instinct to lean out away from the rock. Only by leaning in would we stay upright.
I was in the canoe with this expert friend and we tipped the boat anyway into the freezing cold water.
Some rapids are easier to go through, and some you just have to get out and carry the boat down river. Finding your oar is essential.
Can you tell I love this analogy. You'll have me thinking for a while. And wanting to get back in a canoe.
I think you may have passed me on your journey. I was the one sitting next to the flipped over canoe on the banks of the rapids, drinking wine from the bottle and using my credit card bills as kindling for a camp fire.
Oh yeah. Gorgeousness (gorgeousity?) interruptus.
Very visual.
I could feel the water rippling over my hands while we drifted.
So much on my mind, so much that interrupts what's important.
Scares me.
Thank you for the kick in the butt I needed today.
Lovely. Miss Welcome, there are no acceptable exits on this canoe trip, but is there a way to slow down the canoe?
I love the metaphor. And I ALWAYS groan when picking up that oar. But I'm great at being lazy.
Instead of being in a canoe, I am just treading water around here. Let me tell you, my arms and legs are getting tired. I'd like a life jacket or, better yet, a chaise on the shore and a novel.
Until then, I'm going to keep doing the best I can to stay afloat.
Hang in there!