Yesterday my splendid stepdad and I went for a paddle on the Ware River. I live in a little central New England village and we’re fortunate to be able to shove our kayaks into his pick-up and drive less than ten minutes to a winding little river. Yesterday we paddled for about an hour and a half, over beaver lodges and around bend after bend. The views are intimate and ungroomed, and I got stuck once in a shallow patch (it is the down side of August and here in my part of the northern hemisphere that means warmish and dryish). We saw a blue heron, a hawk, a couple of charming ducks (I confess I still have my city-kid perspective on wildlife). Dragonflies hitched rides (some of them were hitched to each other, naughty little things). I think there was a woodpecker (or maybe a lumberjack). Very groovy afternoon on the water.
Because my stepdad is a stronger paddler than I am, he moved ahead for a while and I felt like I had the river to myself. There I was, sitting in a blue plastic boat, wearing my 50 SPF sunscreen and progressive-lens sunglasses and still somehow felt like it was a thousand years ago. I couldn’t hear the road anymore and I could totally manufacture denial about the contrail above my head. I got into that awesome zone of a really great creative session, or those few times recently I’ve been able to meditate. I kind of suck at quieting my mind, but it’s something I’ve been working on. It got me thinking about the idea of walking meditation. Was I doing paddling meditation? Whatever it was, I want to go again tomorrow!
|Photo by Skip Brown|
Check out my latest release, the second edition of my 1970s romp HAVEN and its fabulous new cover by BSClay. If I mention that Torquere has a coupon you could use, would you think I’m a mercenary? (Use code HOWL at http://torquerebooks.com through Sunday!)
|Click to view product page|