Gliding Down the River

Today dragged on and on and on. After the long weekend it seemed as if the day would never end. Over the course of the previous three days I got kind of used to being alone. I’ve always enjoyed spending time by myself, so the weekend was a perfect time to catch up on lost time in that area.

Every once in a while I find myself on a road to nowhere. Any road will take me to where I want to go because the destination is unknown. When I’m on that road it’s easy to realize that the future is unwritten. Although we can make predictions and wish upon falling stars, it’s hard to imagine where we might be a month from now, let alone a year from now. Most of us have a general idea of where we want to go, but few of us will find the path needed to get us there. Instead, we get lost in the familiarity of our day to day lives. We find comfort there, so we rebel against change. Most change is good. Change usually brings us a new way to look at things. It might present us with better opportunities or challenge us with things we didn’t know we were capable of doing.

Change can be scary. It can make us hide in fear. It can fill our bodies with adrenalin. It can do anything that we allow it to do. However, if we stand up, welcome the opportunities that arise and leave the old behind, we can grow from the experience. When we become stagnant we tend to lose focus on what we really want in life. I’ve made a habit of putting one foot in front of the other and slowly moving forward, even it it is at a snail’s pace. I will get to to where I want to go.

As I launched my kayak into the river on Sunday morning it felt good to be back in the water. The bottom of my boat never touched water last summer. I was involved with so many other things that I simply didn’t have time to enjoy the peace and quiet that being on the water always brings to me.

Within seconds of pushing off from the shore my boat gently glided into the current and began it’s journey downstream. The cold water trickled down my paddle and across my fingers. It was cooler than I anticipated, but refreshing at the same time.

As I floated down the river I noticed the aftermath of the fury that nature had unleashed over the last month. There were broken branches, flooded fields and bird houses that barely stuck out above the water. I’m sure many other things were swept away.

It was a good thing that I wasn’t overly energetic because the current kept me from working very hard. Before I knew it a few hours had passed and I was headed home. It felt good to be outside for a while.

When I returned home I grabbed some lunch, rested for a little while and decided to entertain myself by hitting golf balls. It’s amazing how something so simple can become so difficult if you don’t practice. At first I was shanking shots all over the place. Eventually I got everything under control and started hitting perfect shots with my 7-iron. I’ve done a lot of things in my life, but there are very few things that can compare to hitting a perfect golf shot. Since I didn’t have to rely on anyone else I stopped as soon as I hit a perfect shot. That’s the beauty of being alone. I could go as I came because I was ready and it was time. It was time to find something else to do with myself.  Some days you seem so lost, but you’re at home with your surroundings. I’m sure that most of you can understand what I’m getting at.

When the sun set on the day I stared at the ceiling and began to wonder what’s next. One thought to the next crossed through my mind. I acknowledged all of them and spent significant time on a few of them. I felt like I was in the kayak again. I was floating down the river. I was quietly hoping that the current would do its part and take me to where I belong. As long as I realize that there’s no need to interfere by moving my paddle, I’m sure that I’ll slowly drift into a safe harbor on the side of the river. I’m not sure what or who will be there to greet me when I arrive, but I do know that I won’t be alone. Until then, I’ll enjoy my own company as I always do.

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