Sometimes I kayak.
I kayak because there is freedom to think, to be, to become. There is both movement and stillness.
Perhaps it is the blue heron that sets a-flight only to perch again or the bald eagle which soars only to sit moments later, high nested and majestically regal. Perhaps it is movement forward after floating stillness that captures me so.
Today I kayaked and I heard echos of rough tones and got bombarded with memories which have entrenched negative self-talk within me. Around the bend in the lake from wind-swept waters and frustrated recounting of things gone by there was a cove of courage.
There, a stroke at a time, I saw a piece of me that doesn’t hold hands with trauma or disdain, a me who isn’t dismantled by circumstances or conversations.
I paddled into perspective that I am a warm light that glows best when living local and loving strong.
Calculations of “whys” within childhood, career, creativity, or calling fracture the light and bend it away from the forward. Maybe less corrective aims and more conviction-filled steps will be the betterment of me. Less trying to make everything around me seem right or be successful and more of do what I know and learn what I don’t. It’s not about yesterday anymore; it’s about today, likely even more about tomorrow.
The lake curved me back around to my starting spot. As I walked ashore, I knew that paddling today had surfaced the joy in living, the love of little ones, the longing for meeting hope and dancing once again. Today I paddled towards me and it was freeing.
Do what frees you today. In the strain or stress of present realities, whether you are just surviving or currently strength-knowing, lean for a moment into life. Dare even to chase a little hope with me. Find you. Be you. Bless on.
From Valentine Lake, in the state with 10,000 lakes,