The rhythm of my paddle is like a lullaby: sweep, dip, pull, glide. The gliding feels like a magic spell has been cast upon us - a calm quiet energy that radiates through us.
I can't help but feel that our time in the woods and on the lake is having a powerful healing effect on my family.
Evan is delighting in the effortless gliding of our yellow canoe. It must feel so different than the effort it normally takes him to move (keeping his balance, avoiding obstacles, sustaining his energy).
I am inspired by nature's perfect purpose of existing in the moment. I realize that back at home so many of the things I toil over just don't matter.
Evan's brother Jonathan is also invigorated by the water. He is driven to paddle in our nature wonderland as much as possible during our time at the lake. During our sunset paddle we watched the shoreline and it's tall trees in awe. We experienced what John Muir put into words: "I beheld the countless hosts of the forests hushed and tranquil, towering above one another on the slopes of the hills like a devout audience. The setting sun filled them with amber light, and seemed to say, while they listened, 'My peace I give unto you.' "
Randy is lost in the experience - work a far off thought. Fishing, hiking, and paddling are all that matter.
How we hold onto this peace as we enter back into our life of school and work is up to us. We can take quiet moments to close our eyes, imagine we are here in nature, and breathe deeply. We can take frequent outings into our backyard and parks to refresh our memories. We can live our lives simply, as creatures of nature.
For caregivers, family, and individuals bound by the limitations of chronic illness, nature has a liberating effect.