Today I needed reasons. I needed reasons to feel balanced. To balance on water, to be small on a big lake allows this to happen for me. The planet is old. It has wisdom, not through words but through presence. I just skitter around on it without listening most of the time. So I packed my stuff, set an alarm, and headed out early for the water. It was 46 degrees, which seemed cold, and it was, but I paddled toward the sun and it warmed up.
Watching the weather pattens move and change in an hour’s time reminds me that we come from a moody planet, one of unstable output and expression. We would have to be the same as the earth is our mother, right? We can’t control the patterns and why would we try, except we want to because moderation is easier to be with. Except for when moderation is stagnation.
When moving on water, I look to find a designation, a precise goal, but it can’t be done. It has no definition, it is not confined to solid marks as here, there, right here, exactly there. I paddle for a while thinking I’m there but I’m not. There keeps moving away from me, a little farther. So, I decide to stop and be somewhere, wherever that is. I am alone, floating, with dog as my witness. She sniffs the air. She loves the adventure more than the actual water. She balances between my feet, she is centered.
Breakfast: hummus wrapped in tortilla, and a pear, while floating between solid ground.
There is a romantic futility in being a small paddler in a large lake. Yet, the one paddle achieves the impossible. I crossed the lake. I made it.
Be like the bird that flies over; flap your wings and stop thinking about it.
The lake and sky had a different mood every 10 minutes. This made me see the earth as alive. Every part of it. I’m just in this part. The featured lake pictures are in a span of about 15 minutes. The clouds arrived a few minutes later.
Going out into the void, away from the voices and input is not abandonment of the suffering going on. I think of it as a reset. I can become small in the largeness, my ego takes much less space so that I can notice what needs to be seen.
Going into the water is a way to process everything that is happening. By getting away from the noise, it’s easier to hear the message.
Your last sentence says it all, MA. And thanks so much for my “evolve” postcard; a needed reminder every. single. day.
Yes, it seems like after writing everything, the last bit is often the essence. I’m so glad you like the postcard!