Almost seeing heatwaves beckon its evaporating power upon the liquid splattered rocks, the vaporized stench of canine urine steaming upwards, right through wind-driven currents, into her nostrils causes scrunch face. Peacefully lounging one moment, then the next, her mind following the invisible trail of nature’s odorous spring brings her eyes to stare at the newly budding cherry trees where a nearly invisible web of an exquisite crafter dangles between upper branches. The captured insect, motionless, except for the breezy interruption, elicits trance-like meditation, home to imagination’s vibrancy.
The alpine meadow basks in the final warmth of glorious goldenrod as the last vestiges of daylight slip out of her bright raiment, gingerly falling with graceful delicacy betwixt white-capped mountain ridges. Unbraided, flowing silvery, chestnut tresses spread across the western horizon. Prophesying shades of tomorrow’s promise, all nature sighs in harmonic silence, captive in the unveiling of a magnificent celestial palette.
Battling unseen underlying elements, I underestimate their exerting, powerful will upon my every stroke, causing exhaustion. Nature and balance, such totality of immersion, I view with reverential fear (or so I thought). Another new learning experience, neither the beginning, middle, or end of my account, I doggedly endure. Shall I begin?
Heeding my internal water alarm ringing, set by sunlight’s spell, the North Saskatchewan River awaits. A flotilla of glass-faceted shaped ice chunks drifts like miniature sculptures. The chase and avoidance begin a cautious expedition downstream. What a pleasant paddleboarding trip, for the most part. A solitary paddleboarder gawking in every direction, except behind, feels alive in gentle wind gusts occasionally slapping my cheeks pink.
The River Song
Sparkling sun gems alternately kiss watery peaks,
teasingly winking their challenge, “We dare you, follow.
Our strength is your weakness. Our power silently speaks.
Chase castles, dazzling ice sculptures, melting as they flow.”
The river calls the adventuring, curious heart,
stubbornly confident, a warrior against all doubt.
Stand tall with paddle and music, the melodic start,
gentle strokes her rhythm, on a meandering route.
The river song delights with its laughing ripples
bouncing joyously to the tickles from below.
Enchanting babbling sounds as popping bubbles burst.
An alluring symphony draws me close to
pillars of temptation and deceptive circles
of silent stillness, a masterful interlude.
As the clock ticks and the earth rotates, signifying a return to the boat docking area, I launch from my brief resting place beyond the bridges. The upstream battle begins in earnest north of the overpassing vehicles. Construction workers watch as I zigzag away from and closer to shore while the current drags and pushes, seemingly holding me. In this watery dilemma, my paddle digs and pulls while I stop watching the shoreline. My arms and knees join the rhythms of my playlist, becoming my imaginary dancing feet, harmony in stroke and focus, meditation for the soul.
The warrior in me rises in fierceness, standing tall, relaxing every muscle to observe floating ice castles drift swiftly past, feeling momentary success, before engaging in a fast-moving battle of wits, determination, and hope. Reflecting on salmon, I fall to my knees, trying to muster unfathomable strength in the face of adversity. With every four strokes, the water’s power causes doubled efforts. How will I ever return (at this rate) to the starting point, stubbornness, and prayer for the wind at my back to push and provide momentum in the failing attempt? Deceitful appearances and proximity are my experiences with this paddleboarding expedition. Only one choice guides me. Alternately breathe, stand, paddle, kneel, hope, paddle, listen to my music and, look no further than the end of my paddleboard. An hour becomes two, then three, and finally, after almost four hours of current wrestling upstream, a few stops along the shore, and utter exhaustion, the finish line appears in view, but I know it will take longer than expected. Five hours from start to finish, and I falter in carrying my paddleboard up the hill to the car.
Sleep comes easily and morning dawns with glorious beauty for the paddleboarder who wishes to recover and rest from yesterday’s exploits. The red lounge chair beckons the day following, and I accept its invitation.
A scent alert awakens me to the deck, lounger, and at least for a time, the urge to identify the odorous interloper. Dozing into an intense adventure in the mountains I love and characters (in creative vision), my imagination writes me into a realm of fantasy intertwined with my life. How did this narrative begin?
Paddleboarding is to my soul what meditation is to my heart, a place of oneness with universal truths. The gentle wakes from under the nose of my paddleboard are ripples of my existence and where I go. The calm stream of water directly behind is symbolic (for it exists only for a time). I have dreams, wishes, and hopes for all those who enrich me, and my life, with their goodness, faith, truth, loyalty, honesty, character, and all those who may only pass my way once in a lifetime. I learn about myself and life as I paddleboard, creating trails in my heart.
(Clicking on a picture will enlarge it on the phone)
Life Happens
=>Which elements create your trails?
=>How have you had to exert yourself, perhaps mind over matter, to overcome adversity?
