Tuesday Morning

This could be the first of many days of freedom, of unstructured and creative time, or it could be a week that marks an end to that and the start of a new kind of routine. A life of consistency - something I both fear and welcome. I am that contradiction, embodied. I come alive in the moments on the river, like yesterday, finding flow in every paddle stroke. Low water rapids barely necessitating more than a switch of tilt. I can also see that this kind of freedom can be enabled by a kind of steadiness, routine; staying-putedness. Being in place.

At the moment, I am enjoying this slow morning, one of my favourite things. Keeping myself on a diet of screen-free time for the first hour at least of each day, drinking my coffee without distraction. Gazing out the window today at this hazy (smoke-filled) air that hovers in the city, between buildings and over the harbour. Doing nothing but that.

I think about walking the dog at the lake a bit later, writing something (chapter 1 in process), possibly going to the museum (artist's date).  Cleaning the car of sand and salty debris, a task still waiting for me in the aftermath of my return from the ocean. This is a good life. A short phone call from a friend as she drove this morning, young baby in tow, our conversation splitting the moments between cries. The definition of love, her sleepless nights, and all the imperfections of a life fully and honestly lived.
There is a strange but welcome peace for me today. A sense of forgiveness - of all the things, myself included, because this is where it starts - which feels a little like emerging from a fog, or being suddenly unshackled from my own (mis)perceptions. Allowed to move forward again. Knowing that all is not lost, that I am loved and able to love in return. Words...understanding how they can have the appearance of keeping us stationary, committed as they are to permanence, but can really be about unravelling what is stuck, relinquishing my ideas to freedom and flow. All things pass.

Photo Cred: ?? Not sure, spring day on Beaver Creek, circa 2006?

Yesterday those of us who were on the river just let it take us, the water low enough to funnel our boats on a swift course mostly free of obstacles. Each subsequent wave allowing us to bounce off the shoreline rocks and over the deepest channel. All that was needed was to trust in the balance of things, keep our paddles in the water and catch whatever eddies appeared on the way.