Thursday, October 4, 2012

Guided by Herons and Angels

I was on Salt Creek yesterday for a leisurely canoe ride.  It was my idea.  One last ride before putting the canoe away for the winter.  The water was very low and the river trail had not been kept up as well as other waterways.

It was a very difficult paddle, maneuvering downed trees, large rocks jutting up from the riverbed and marsh overgrowth.  We had to portage the canoe a few times.  The mud was horrible, the water cold; some plant disagreed with my skin as I trudged through weeds to find a suitable place to get back in the canoe.

I was really angry that this final ride of the season was unpleasant.  I forced my husband out of the water as soon as an opportunity arose.  Nature was perfectly fine with me imposing myself on her, but I was not fine with the impositions she laid out for me.  Maybe it was the rough week of caring for a friend in hospice, who is gracefully making her final journey out of this life and into an unknown next.

So now I am embarrassed at my anger at something I cannot control.  Ahead of our canoe all morning was a flock of mallard ducks, peregrine falcons and two herons, as if to lead us through this difficult journey.  The pair of herons split up and one stayed behind, patiently waiting as we slowly made our way downstream, lifting off as we approached and flying ahead as if to guide us in the right direction.  It allowed us closer each time we came upon it, before it lifted its long legs and regal wings to fly it further ahead.  It looked prehistoric, we both noted, as if it had been flying for centuries, charting the path for those who followed.

How apropos that I experienced this difficult journey now.  Now, when everything in my life has stopped calling me to take notice, a lull that is quite uncomfortable and un-relenting.  This lull, this place of nothingness, has forced me to experience and understand me in ways I’ve never approached.  And this lull comes at a time when my dear friend also approaches her transition, her transformation, her de-manifesting from this life in order to manifest elsewhere, somewhere uncharted.

It is quiet now for her as she navigates this new trajectory.  Does she have guides as well?  Are there bumps and detours and perils on this new path?  I believe so as I noticed some pain the other day in her quiet face, a slight rise in her blood pressure.  I don’t believe it was physical pain.

She is journeying though her now passing life at great speed, experiencing the pains and joys of memories which she will take with her, memories that will be lost forever in the now as she finds her new place.  She will carry the residues of those memories that will color her new life and give her insight and intuition at crucial moments.  She will “know” things.  We all “know” things if we allow ourselves the quietude that gives way to these thoughts.  Like the knowing of a person you’ve never met before now or the “I’ve been here before” in a place you’ve never been.

I wonder if falcons and owls and herons guide her path now, alighting a short distance ahead, waiting for her, making sure she navigates the path safely.  The tumultuous path of innocence stolen, selfish partners, dreams lost, dreams found, ideals held tightly and hopes realized; the tree stumps and overgrown marsh blocking the way, forcing her to step around or through the muck one last time before the light lifts her out.

I feel shame for jumping out of the water too early, complaining that this is too hard, when I look into the peaceful face of a difficult and too short life of the angel I now sit beside.  Transitions are always difficult.  The long and winding road is steeped with dangerous curves, hills, rocks and detours.  But within, deep within, once you’ve stepped beyond the muck, a beauty awaits that is unimaginable and this is where dreams are fulfilled.

We are never given any experience that stops us in our tracks for more than the moments it takes us to comprehend and survive and to move our feet forward again, maybe on the same path or maybe a different one.  There are guides along the way if we keep our eyes centered and open.  There is always someone watching out along our path, be it mallards, herons or angels.

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