On the Water

Exultation is the going of an inland soul to sea. -Emily Dickinson

Regardless of how stressed I might be, I find I cannot cling to angst when I'm out on the water. Ron and I took the annual spring trial run on the boat recently and running at full throttle, my hair flapping around like laundry hung out on a windy day, eyes closed, face full tilt to the sun, I could feel my troubles leaving like a fever breaking. I get all inspired when I'm out on the deep water. Within minutes of losing sight of the dock, urges to write rise up as if from hibernation. It occurs to me I think I would write more if I lived on a houseboat. In fact, I don't think I could stop myself.

I see humanity divided into two main groups, and then, of course, into many sub groups, but basically people are either water people or they are land people. And, furthermore, I have found that most water people have deep yearnings to be on or near salt water. If this isn't possible, due to life circumstances, then these water people will always be found on a lake or river, sometimes even a pond has to do. We'd be in a marina somewhere on the Gulf if Ron had his way. No doubt I'd be right there with him, except I have even stronger yearnings to be where family is. I appease him with, "maybe someday". In the meantime, we are content to pack a lunch, speed out to some cove, drop anchor and just be on the water. I can't really explain it, but I do know the experience is not just satisfying, it is the only way I can truly let go. Maybe the rush of the wind and the negative ions from the moist air, not to mention the occasional pungent fishy smell works like aroma therapy. Whatever, it sure cleans out the corners. For a good twenty-four hours after being out on the water, I think more clearly. I swear it.

Out there bobbing around, the boat making lazy circles around the tether of the anchor, is where I have had some of my best, most startlingly dynamic ideas. On this particular trip, however, I just did a little spring cleaning. No good ideas, no story lines or puppet shows. Just finding my balance again. Sorting and filing, I stumbled across a stray thought about last year at this time and how my focus was on Y2K and the uncertainty of the near future. Last May I was busy making plans to spend as much time with the grandkids as possible in the summer months, unsure what kind of summer loomed ahead in the year 2000. It occurred to me that this year is different only because things are still working. There is no defined hard deadline for catastrophe now. This then, seems a bit more dangerous, somehow.

This unsettling thought lead to a recognition that I am not the same person this year that I was this time last year, so this sort of notion doesn’t affect me like it would have. While only a year older, chronologically speaking, I am eons older in terms of spirituality. And maybe at least decades older in terms of collected wisdom. I definitely can attribute this to the learning curve I resided in last year. But if I had to choose the most significant thing I absorbed last year, besides how to get on my knees more, I wouldn't know where to begin. If I made a list, learning to can would be at the top and then how to store food and water. But these are only mechanics. Next, I could add that I learned how to interpret double-speak from the economy-driven mass media. And though this was an important lesson to tuck into long term memory if one wishes to be "aware", it doesn't really change anything, other than make one more paranoid and mistrustful.

No, push come to shove, if I had to name the most significant change in me over the course of the past twelve months, I guess I'd have to say it was the loss of future. Simply put, I don't live in the future anymore. Frankly, I can't visualize "someday" anymore. I try to smell the roses today, while they are blooming. I appreciate hot showers and electric lights. But mostly I touch and feel and breathe deeper, today. And while I know this is a hold-over from the way I felt last year, the truth is we can't possibly know what tomorrow will bring so why should we waste a precious moment of this day? This is the day the Lord hath made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.

You know, you read these things in touchy-feely emails and you say to yourself, ah, yes, this is so true. You might even wipe a little unexpected moisture from your eyes. But last year I was forced to face that this lesson is not only true, it is the basis for honest living. And one of the most serious decisions I made last year, after I justified spending money on car loads of beans and rice, was that honest living is where I want to be.

Yep, I definitely think more clearly on the water.