Saturday, July 25, 2009 Finally got the boat into the water before noon. The trick was to strap the boat to the rack on top of the van the night before, so it'd be ready and waiting, no excuses. Our destination this morning was the river that seems to connect all these lakes. Once my crew was on board I started rowing down river. After about a quarter mile there was a sign indicating that motorized boats were not allowed to go any further. That's a good sign. A nice and quiet time on the water was exactly what we were hoping for.
I rowed. Carol watched. Nicky snoozed. It was peaceful. I shipped the oars to talk with a couple who were canoing in the opposite direction. We wanted to get some information as to what to expect downstream. Very friendly people. He held the rope of Ulysses and passed over a map of the river. Apparently, the area is a great canoing destination. People come from all over the world to paddle around these rivers and lakes. There are signs indicating where portage trails are located as well as numerous primitive campsites not accessible by any other means. It's pretty cool. Sort of like wilderness backpacking but on water. Christie, if you're reading, this is something you'd enjoy. The bird watching is fantastic. You could watch while Vince rowed.
After a good survey of the map we continued on through the serene setting. This whole environment lends itself toward meditative reflection. Far from the madding crowd... and all of that. Whenever we pass canoers or kayakers they seem to have an otherworldliness about them, and will always nod, smile or say hello. Finally, and with some reluctance, I turned the craft around, knowing that rowing against the current on the return leg would only be more difficult.
Rather than pulling the boat out when we reached the dock, I decided to head out into Fish Pond to do some swimming. Why they call the lake Fish Pond I do not know, but it certainly is no pond. Anyway, once I got sufficiently away from the shore, we both went overboard to cool off. There's nothing like a plunge into cold water to revive one's senses. Carol is not too fond of cold water but finds it refreshing on a hot day. I keep telling her that one never feels so alive as when one is immersed in the substance, and she believes me. Even Nicky got into the act by jumping in to join us.
Meanwhile, Carol tried to read from the Kybalion again, but like the previous attempt, it was just too noisy. The worst culprits are the jet skis. I'm sure if I had one I'd be just as bad; screaming across the water as fast as their whining engines can propel them. But when one is floating in a rubber boat trying to listen to words of wisdom from the ancients, these modern conveniences become a major annoyance. There was nothing to be done but return to the sanctuary of the river. Carol has a soothing voice and I never tire of hearing about the seven Hermetic principles. One of these days I might even figure out what it all means.
Back at the campsite, after one of Carol's Casita specials, we pulled the lawn chairs up beside the lake. The contemplative nature of the day spilled over into the evening. Looking up at the stars we discussed the nature of perception, and possible concurrent/alternate realities. I concluded that if reincarnation exists, then there has to be some kind of divine principle at work (or at play). Some entity..energy..force.. has to have set the wheels in motion; certainly something much grander than the anthropomorphised sky God of organized religions.
Evolution can only explain changes in the physical world, and natural selection only works when there is a struggle for life. If channeled books are real, then the entities authoring them must reside somewhere, on some plane. If. . If.. yeah it was that kind of night. The older I get the more questions I have, and fewer answers. I'm just now getting around to understanding the old Greek proverb that “the more I know the more I don't know”. According to my wise wife, “We are here and that's what truly matters. Enjoy the mystery”.
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