The River is Mine
Re-entry into the world has been slow...I have not been drawn to write or read...
This morning I went down to the river for the first time in about 10 days. I have been studiously pouring over some kayaking books I bought - trying to learn more about the sport and about essential skills. It is always interesting to try and translate book knowledge or information into practice.
For example, strength and power should come from the core. And of course, this reminded me of my own practice of Anusara Yoga and how we move from the periphery to the core - and engage the core strongly in poses.
There was no one at the river this morning. No one at the parking lot. No one "in" the river.
I paddled for a long time upstream, finally angling around one of the islands between the Virginia and the Maryland side until I was totally on the Maryland side. It was very quiet and peaceful. After all those days humbled by the vastness and the power of the ocean it felt comforting and familiar to be exploring various facets of this river that has been a silent witness to my life. And indeed, to many lives...
I observed for how long I continued to float upstream after I stopped paddling. Then there was the pause - the kumbhaka between strokes and breaths - and the slight initial movement that propelled my boat to begin moving downstream.
For part of that kumbhaka - I floated and drifted off into meditation. I was immersed in total silence and stillness - except for the occasional bird and the humming of insects. I could have remained there forever.
It is nothing short of a gift to be on this river. I gave thanks for the opportunity to live a life that affords me so much time to connect with Spirit.
And I gave thanks for the life and presence of the grandmother who transitioned 13 years ago today. A cousin and I remembered her fondly last night in a conversation, marveling at how we had both been visited by her in dreams during moments of our lowest lows.
This morning, in this river, I felt a peace that has been largely absent of late. I gave thanks for what is - and for what cannot be.
This morning I went down to the river for the first time in about 10 days. I have been studiously pouring over some kayaking books I bought - trying to learn more about the sport and about essential skills. It is always interesting to try and translate book knowledge or information into practice.
For example, strength and power should come from the core. And of course, this reminded me of my own practice of Anusara Yoga and how we move from the periphery to the core - and engage the core strongly in poses.
There was no one at the river this morning. No one at the parking lot. No one "in" the river.
I paddled for a long time upstream, finally angling around one of the islands between the Virginia and the Maryland side until I was totally on the Maryland side. It was very quiet and peaceful. After all those days humbled by the vastness and the power of the ocean it felt comforting and familiar to be exploring various facets of this river that has been a silent witness to my life. And indeed, to many lives...
I observed for how long I continued to float upstream after I stopped paddling. Then there was the pause - the kumbhaka between strokes and breaths - and the slight initial movement that propelled my boat to begin moving downstream.
For part of that kumbhaka - I floated and drifted off into meditation. I was immersed in total silence and stillness - except for the occasional bird and the humming of insects. I could have remained there forever.
It is nothing short of a gift to be on this river. I gave thanks for the opportunity to live a life that affords me so much time to connect with Spirit.
And I gave thanks for the life and presence of the grandmother who transitioned 13 years ago today. A cousin and I remembered her fondly last night in a conversation, marveling at how we had both been visited by her in dreams during moments of our lowest lows.
This morning, in this river, I felt a peace that has been largely absent of late. I gave thanks for what is - and for what cannot be.
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