Rivers

Otis Redding - (Sittin' On) The Dock Of The Bay springs to mind as I watch the Fraser River flow to the sea. I walk almost every day and I have been building up my stamina to reach 7K a day. I was half way along the walk and I found my stamina was not what it was, and I had to sit. So, I choose spot on the dock along the River, where I am watching the River as I rest.

 I watch the currents swirling and the flotsam drift by my spot. For those who are not aware the Fraser River is a large River on the West Coast of BC and where I walk it is also a tidal river. At this time of the year is running high and fast due to the snow melt and the rains.

 The logs, branches and other debris are floating by at, what I thought was a fast pace. As I watched the river, I noticed that the debris appeared to be slowing down and then it stopped. The branches and the flotsam, slowed to a crawl and the just started to bob without moving, as if they were treading water. Slowly, almost at a snail’s pace, the debris I was watching started to move back up the river. Usually in the fall, winter or earl spring, I have noticed the tide turning and found it entertaining to watch the river currents first moving toward the ocean and then moving back to the mountains as the river and the tide fought for control. 

Because the river is so high and running so fast, I had not expected the tide to turn the river, but it did. I knew that within an hour the tide would turn, and the debris and the river would continue their journey to the ocean.

 As I was watching I heard a power boar approaching, going down river, and I noticed that the boater gradually increased the acceleration of the boat as the tide shifted. The boater may not have realized what why he/she was slowing down but they compensated for the extra force against the boat to maintain the same speed.

As we go through life, some of us are the flotsam and allow the currents to take us where they want us to go, we drift along until sometimes we  get caught between powerful forces that we are not aware and we stop, and drift around until we are pulled ahead without knowing what happened or why. Some of us are the boater who knows where they are going and have the energy to get there fast and when we are faced with currents that slow us down, we just increase the amount of energy we have to expend to get to where we want to go.

Learning to live

 One of the best blogs I read is Brain Pickings by Maria Popova which is thought provoking and stimulating. The following is from her post on learning to live and learning to die.

Every act of living is an act of learning to die, of apprenticing ourselves to the loss of this moment. If we are thoughtful and tender with ourselves, the terror of the loss cusps into transcendence, the grief into gratitude, into a nonspecific gladness enveloping everything that ever was and ever will be, enveloping us in the sense of ourselves as nothing more than particles passing between not yet and no more, nothing less than particular, particulate miracles bewildered and bewildering in their passage.

That is what poet Ross Gay explores with his light and luminous touch in one of the highlights from the fourth annual Universe in Verse, the poem “Ode to Buttoning and Unbuttoning My Shirt”

by Ross Gay

No one knew or at least
I didn’t know
they knew
what the thin disks
threaded here
on my shirt
might give me
in terms of joy
this is not something to be taken lightly
the gift
of buttoning one’s shirt
slowly
top to bottom
or bottom
to top or sometimes
the buttons
will be on the other
side and
I am a woman
that morning
slipping the glass
through its slot
I tread
differently that day
or some of it
anyway
my conversations
are different
and the car bomb slicing the air
and the people in it
for a quarter mile
and the honeybee’s
legs furred with pollen
mean another
thing to me
than on the other days
which too have
been drizzled in this
simplest of joys
in this world
of spaceships and subatomic
this and that
two maybe three
times a day
some days
I have the distinct pleasure
of slowly untethering
the one side
from the other
which is like unbuckling
a stack of vertebrae
with delicacy
for I must only use
the tips
of my fingers
with which I will
one day close
my mother’s eyes
this is as delicate
as we can be
in this life
practicing
like this
giving the raft of our hands
to the clumsy spider
and blowing soft until she
lifts her damp heft and
crawls off
we practice like this
pushing the seed into the earth
like this first
in the morning
then at night
we practice
sliding the bones home.

Special People

The world is a wonderful place, there are so many splendors no matter where you now live. When we were young the world was in exquisite balance, and we viewed in just such a way that we would never, ever become bored. Do you remember those times, life was new, the world was exciting?

Exciting not boring, because there were a few valleys so that we could deeply appreciate the peaks. A few scaly, ugly, biting creatures, to make the others more adorable. Some slippery slopes, dangerous curves, and moving targets, to show us how agile, brilliant, and cunning we were. And some quicksand, tornadoes, and earthquakes, to help us appreciate a stolen nap, an evening stroll, and quiet times.

 But, best of all were all the special people that populated our lives, we did not think of them as special, but they were. These were the people who had the perspectives and traits so unlike your own that sometimes it would seem your only means of surviving the relationship would be learning to love yourself, even more.  They came into our lives when we least expected them to appear and when they had completed the tasks, they had to do with us, they left.  As we grew older for some of us, fewer and fewer of these special people appeared in our life because we became less and less open to embracing them. In retirement we have the opportunity to start to allow these very special people back into our lives to see how they can make our life more exciting. Be open to the new and enjoy the adventure.

A Little Poem For Seniors

A Little Poem For Seniors, so true it hurts!

Another year has passed And we're all a little older.
Last summer felt hotter And winter seems much colder.

There was a time not long ago When life was quite a blast
Now l fully understand About 'Living in the Past’

We used to go to weddings, Football games and lunches.
Now we go to funeral homes And after funeral brunches.

We used to go out dining And couldn't get our fill
Now we ask for doggie bags, Come home and take a pill.

We used to often travel To places near and far
Now we get sore asses From riding in the car.

We used to go to nightclubs And drink a little booze.
Now we stay home at night And watch the evening news.

That, my friend is how life is, And now my tale is told.
So, enjoy each day and live it up... Before you're too damned old