The water we stand over, the water that made us.
Thursday June 18th 2009: There are so many thoughts when we’re standing there looking down into our very own existence, water. I’m not sure if it comes with age, I have a feeling that these thoughts have been following me all along but in various shapes, like the water under a bridge is constantly changing when passing on its way into the future. I’m standing on a bridge in-between and right now I don’t want to go either way. The water looks so inviting, but I’m not going to jump either.
Please don’t be alarmed. I know I haven’t been in touch for a while as things have been quite turbulent here and I haven’t been able to sort of relax from it. For some reason this blog has become a breathing hole for me and I don’t want to cover it up with muddy thoughts or stress related shortcuts. I need to see clear on things, even though some of my blog entries might suggest differently. For those of you who have been following me from the start I have shared my thoughts with you and they are there to remain for newcomers to catch up on us and comment on whenever any one of you would like to. To a certain degree I have cleared my desk and as this remaining picture and what it stands for now have become clear to me, I would like to share that insight with you.
I don’t bother if the bridge I stand on is old fashioned or a thin plank placed over a small creek. It’s me and the water that’s floating there under that matter the most to me. The water can be dark and deep and passing in a slow pace as now. But the water can also be white, transparent and giggly rushing, like in a hurry when passing. I don’t know what I prefer the most, the slow pace, or the giggly hurry?
There are times and there have been times when I can sit and watch water passing for hours. There have also been times when I have been floating along, both literally and in my mind. The boat that was supposed to carry me went under on one occasion on a white water trip and I had to put up a fight to get it and me safe up on shore. This happened in far north
My passenger sitting in front of me started to show panic and I told him in a calm tone as we sank to take his paddle with him and make his way to the nearest shore to the right. I had managed to maneuver fairly close to the nearest right shore, as I long before we sank knew we were not going to make it the whole way down to calm water. I told him to leave the canoe to me and as he left he almost tipped the canoe over. He managed to get to the shore rather quickly while the stream took me and the canoe back out in the middle of the rapid for a ride. The stream was about
I didn’t think much and I didn’t panic. Hanging on at the back end of the canoe, which now was completely full with water and heavy as a rock to move, I pointed my feet down the stream. I tried to keep the canoe upright so our things in it would stay there even if full of water. Otherwise if the canoe would tip, both the canoe and all our things on board would be smashed to pieces on the rocks and get lost. There were three more canoes in our party and we were far out in the wilderness with at least two days paddling to nearest civilization. My feet were most time in contact with the stony bottom as I was floating down the stream and the chill from the ice cold water was starting to eat its way into my bones. The stream was mastering the pace, but like jumping in different directions on every stone I touched, I managed to maneuver the canoe in an angle and slow down its speed, making the stream move me sideways by the water pressure building up on the one side.
Just before coming down to the bottom of the stream I managed to maneuver myself and the canoe out of the stream and land it on the left hand shore. The canoe was intact and I hadn’t lost anything, but I was so cold that I hardly could move and I was beginning to start to shake heavily. I managed to take off all my wet clothes with my stiff fingers and totally naked with an air temperature just above the freezing point, I tried to unpack some of my clothes that were well and waterproof packed in my rucksack. I also got out a towel so I could dry myself. I was still shaking heavily and even if bare naked with mosquitoes and gnats all around, they stayed away and didn’t touch me as I was too cold.
My passenger had been making his way down on the right hand shore among thick bushes sticking out over the water and he now tried to shout at me across the stream. The sound of the stream almost drowned every word he said and I was too cold to answer. My jaw was never still a second and I had to keep my tongue back so I wouldn’t bite it off. He seemed to be in a state of more panic now than before when he left the canoe, as the stream was wilder here and he didn’t know how to come over to my side. The other canoes in our party were not able to assist him, as they already had passed trying to take care of themselves and they were far from us now. And to wrap up his situation, he too was completely wet and the insects constantly present gave him a hard time to think straight.
I couldn’t speak, so I tried to signal to him making him stay put. Hi did, even though I don’t think he understood my signaling anyway. In a period not shaking so much I got dressed and tried to loosen my stiff cold limbs up a bit, and after a while when I was able to move more freely, I unpacked the rest of the still water-filled canoe. I turned it over and lifted it up to get rid of all water before I turned it again and put it down floating. There were a lot of stones on both sides of the river and the main stream in the middle was running fast. I did get in that empty canoe with my paddle and by angling the canoe up against the current and keeping its position, I was able to maneuver across and pick up my lost passenger. In the same way I took us back over again, instructing him to do nothing but just keep his balance without touching the rail.
We managed to pack our things back in the canoe again and continued our river trip with me putting up an attitude like it was nothing to it. We all got back home alright, but that rapid crossing picking my passenger up and back again, I still today don’t know how I was able to manage. It wasn’t the canoe that carried me over that time; instead I would like to believe that the water did. I also would like to believe that bridges not only rely on the foundation they stand on or the wires holding them up. I would like to believe that the water floating under is somehow involved too and that it’s there for a reason.
Today to me, a bridge is where we met. The water passing under is what’s carrying us and gives us power to live. Those deep, slow, dark or giggling hurrying streams are there for us to look into, their secrets are ours and they are there for us to reveal. My secret that was revealed on that occasion, I believe was meeting my fear. The water could have swallowed me, but instead it made me see. I learned something about myself out there in the stream; I learned to touch my fear. And as I have said so many times before, the touch is vital for us and sometimes in ways we have a hard time to understand.
The fear of not telling your loved ones could be like taking that step out from a bridge letting the water swallow you, making your true self drown and disappear. To touch that fear and tell who you are could be like standing on water, and the bridge crossing over is where you meet.
After a while I left the bridge and the water down below. Either way I turn, Marianne, my wife, will be there meeting up with me. A lot of water has passed under our bridge, and if not old, the love we share has made our bridge both strong and solid.
