Today as I sat legs spread wide, screwdriver in hand, little one eyed screws rolling about me in my room, mustering patience one rotation at a time -this lesson drilled itself into my head. And to tell you the truth I had it coming. It all began one very pleasant afternoon in May, pleasant only because I sat bobbing up and and down in a raft full of friends as waves rushed about us in gay abandon.
But there was a certain smugness I felt then, that I can smell on me again. I admit I was smug then, because as a second time rafter I assumed I knew so much more about it than anyone else there. Turned out the waves were as tough on me as they were to my fellow rafters. And I did not want to admit it. I was as green a rafter the second time as I was the first. how on earth?
Then instead of floating about in the bubble of presumed knowledge of the world and its ways I looked at what I was doing. And I mean really looked. I was very simply beating down my paddle as hard as I possible could against the bosom of the mighty river. I mean I was literally using all the strength I had to do this. And sadly proud of it as well. Proud of the sheer labor I was putting into it. Now sheer labor is nothing to proud of. It is also a sheer waste of time.
And doing this I had mentally made a note to myself that I could never become the best rafter in the raft, river, sea or world simply because I did not have the strength in my arms to pull of a master stroke.*
Those people who are aware of my physicality are also the most prone to make me the subject of "size zero" and "malnutrition jokes." :P
But sitting there in the raft, paddle in my hand I began to grasp something that is screwing my head right now ( and if you are reading this probably yours as well) There was no way to beat the water. No way and NO POINT!
You cannot beat the waves that come at you. You shall fail royally and get drenched to your sorry ass in the process. You shall not fight that you cannot control ..at all. The paddle hitting the waves is proof, you cannot change the course of a river with one miserable paddle.
But surely you should be able to lead your own raft through the mass of blue, right? wrong. Your idea of controlling your raft is as dangerous as your idea of controlling your life.
The water that surrounds you, will kill your will and drag your life down and choke your dreams if you so much as try to make it take that one turn that it was not supposed to take.
what keeps you floating, despite not being born with an instruction manual comes to you sooner or later- that the waves keep you going. That endless mass of things that you have no control over allow you that one stroke- that allusion of choice.
The intelligent rafter knows that the water is with him, under him, over him, in him, whether he likes it or not. And all it takes is a gently stroke a suggestive swipe of your paddle against the current to make the most of the power that the water possesses.
You got to feel the rhythm of the water, understand it and dance your dance! and enjoy it, enjoy the power that you do not have and still can use. There is no point hitting a screw like you hit a nail. It will most likely break, what you need to find is that little niche to turn round and round and ultimately put together the greatest things. And sheer power never was enough or even necesary.
BUT as the rafting guide kept screaming into our ears- KEEP YOUR GODDAMN LIFEJACKET ON!
Keep your wits, your family and your friends, close, very very close.
*: the assumption that I can become the best rafter in the world is strictly subject to verification in private labs ( not for public consumption or scrutiny)
