The Reset to Start the Day

 

It's rare that the open water is this flat.

I got out just a touch earlier this morning, so that helped.  Ridiculous, because I have so many pictures just like this in my files.  But every time I come around the point, it does something to my soul.  Reading van der Kolk's The Body Keeps the Score right now, and I think he would say that I'm experiencing something of a neurological reset.

The water is calm.

So am I.

Fully present in the moment.

I wonder if that's what the psalmist was trying to do when he wrote:

Be at rest once more, 

O my soul, 

for the LORD has been good to you.

Psalm 116:7

Of course van der Kolk, and many others, suggest various, simpler ways we can re-centre ourselves without the need of a kayak, a large body of water, and a sunrise.  Maybe you have a favourite one yourself to share in the comments, if you are so inclined.

But when I'm here, when I'm out on the flat water, I'll soak in all I can get.  And share my many pictures with you, sorry-not-sorry for how repetitive it might be.

That was a full three hours ago now.  Since then I've showered, hung out a load of laundry, grated carrots in prep for baking later, got something started for lunch, set up my work station on the deck, provided breakfast for no less than seven chipmunks (on the deck at the same time) and two blue jays (who have to move fast if they are going to get any peanuts), and Ken and I got a good start on our kiss-count for the day (that's all I'm saying about that).

Not quite 9 and I'm just checking over the list to prioritize today's work.  It's supposed to be another perfect summer's day here, with some needed rain by tonight and tomorrow.  Yay for the blueberries (which will no doubt be the object of my next set of repetitive pictures!).

Hope you find your reset.

Have a fabulous day.

It's Enough

"The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

surely I have a delightful inheritance."

Psalm 16:6

Woke up longing for a Cognashene sunrise.  

Plans are underway for opening weekend.  

So I tell my heart, "Soon enough.  Hang on."

Still, I'm left with the longing, and in spite of the work ahead of me today, I find the need to sit in in for a while before I begin.  

Psalm 16 is a go to meditation for me, in these in-between moody moments.  In reciting it again, I land on verse 6 and this bit about the portions of the Promised Land allotted to each family.  Interesting, this idea of boundaries being "pleasant."  We often think in terms of restrictions, and not letting anyone hold us back from our freedoms.  And there is that.

But these words also describe the deep contentment of having 'enough.'  There is a lack of neediness; a lack of restlessness; a delight in knowing I am well taken care of.  

I sit for a moment in that gentle reality, like brilliance splashed on glassy waters quietly.

Breathing in.  Breathing out.

And yes, now I can bring a more grateful spirit to the day ahead, and all it might delightfully require of me.

 

Rising Songs

"And all of a sudden I am unaware of

these afflictions eclipsed by glory,

and I realize just how beautiful You are

and how great Your affection is for me."

How He Loves, by John Mark McMillan

"For our light and momentary (by comparison) troubles

are achieving for us an eternal glory

that far outweighs them all.

So we fix our eyes on what is unseen,

since what is seen is temporary,

but what is unseen in eternal."

- Paul - 2 Corinthians 4:17-18

I would promise not to post any more sunrise pictures, but I think that's probably not going to happen, so...

And anyways....just look at that sky!!!

We sang this song, How He Loves Us, at Highview on Sunday. By this morning, I can't help but hear it crescendo as I come around the point to this. I'm immersed in something so much bigger than myself. A humbling love of explosion across the horizon. I feel unspeakably small and hugely significant all at the same time.

I stop paddling and just open my face to it.
I say nothing.
Let it come over me.

Afflictions eclipsed by glory.
Eyes fixed on the bigger things, the eternal things.
And the bright impossible sky reminds me,
reorients me.
Again.

So friends. Sorry, not sorry for another sunrise shot.
Praying glorious things for you this day.

Absence and Fonder Hearts

In this season of disciplined downsizing and letting go, I had not anticipated having kayak restrictions placed upon my bliss.

Out on the flat water this morning, I let it get kind of emotional. It's hard to describe the soul-effect of water and sky, unhurried dip of the paddle blade, rocks and trees and loon landing in a long, soft splash beside me. All and each sacred for their own unmeasurable worth.

All the longings for this cannot be met in one morning's ride.
But I try.

I supposed I've discovered a new level of fasting. And then it occurs to me that this whole big deal of our move to a smaller place, our being 'in between' for longer than looks sensible, our letting go and saying goodbye, of drawing small circles of 'necessary,' and the extra layer of physical, healing-from-surgery restrictions laid on top of it, all of it is like that. A fast from what I think I 'need,' to help me clarify my deeper longings.

I've so missed being out in the kayak early in the morning when it's quiet and the water is flat and my soul can be reassured once more that the One Who flung all this into place with a mere word, still speaks on my behalf.

"You, God, are my God.
Earnestly I seek You.
I thirst for You,
my whole being longs for You
in a dry and parched land
where there is no water."
Psalm 63:1

The irony of these words coming to mind as I rest lightly on the abundant waters of Georgian Bay is not lost on me. But the description of longing is right on the bean. That sense of being needy for something, with 'my whole being.'

This summer I will not accomplish my goal of beating my 37 times around record set last year. But maybe something else is being accomplished in me instead.

In other seasons of life, when the longings for things absent made my heart consumed with longing, I taught myself a 'breath prayer' (a spiritual practice that is pretty much self descriptive).

"Turn all my longings into longings for You."

May our hearts grow fonder, and softer, and wilder, and braver in the absence of all we long for.

Numbering

 

I am mindful of the day.

In just seven more of them I expect Ken and I to have landed in Chiang Mai, been greeted at the airport, stopped in at the “Big C” mall for lunch and to exchange currency, then have arrived to Hot Springs to settle in for a well needed nap.

Before that we will finish up our family time here, likely with a visit to Giant’s Tomb beach later today.

Then we’ll see them off on Friday, spend just two more days here, then head home for a 36 hour stint before the transportation service to the airport arrives Monday night at 9.

All these details, and all the images and lists they conjure in my mind are only vague and misty right at this moment.

Because I am mindful of the day.

This morning the water is like glass for almost the whole hour it takes to paddle around the island.

Even the open water.   I can give only sideways attention to all the things that are about to happen in the next seven days, because right now, at the beginning of this one, it seems I may have slipped between the cracks of time and space into another dimension.  One where all is calm, all is bright.

“Teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom,” says the psalmist (90:12).

I feel I am numbering here on the water.  Considering, appreciating, being fully present in the moment of it, knowing I will be fully present also in the other spaces and moments that are about to abundantly fill the days to come.

It’s only recently that I’ve learned this skill, if you can call it that.  This ability to “be in” all the deep spaces of my life that bring resonance and joy and demand much and give much.  My home of 45 years in Waterloo.  This home of 50 years on Georgian Bay.  And the home where I belong at Hot Springs for 15 years now, since we’re counting.

What a morning!

This one.

Right now.

Oh the abundance of my numbered days!

God grant me the wisdom to not waste a single moment.

Wherever I Go There I Am

It was all about the reflections as I made my way around the island this morning. Water like a mirror, double the beauty of rocks and trees and lilies. Even our new boathouse looks twice a rustic.

I had a harder time getting a mirror effect with the waterlily, as you can see. I think the shot ended up okay, and the ripples make for an interesting foreground. But it wasn't the perfect image on image I was going for.

 


The problem was me. The more I tried to get into a good position for the shot, the more I disturbed the water. And if I stopped using my paddle to let the water settle, I would ever so slowly float on by and the bloom would glide out of the frame. Plus the deer flies were out with blood lust this morning, landing on my hands as I was holding my phone to take pictures. Note: It's really hard not to drop your phone while trying to swat away flies biting the same hands holding your phone!

I made several frustrating attempts, getting more annoyed at the flies and not ever really being able to get in the exact position I needed. And then I stopped, and laughed.

I was trying to capture serenity at the expense of my serenity.

In the end I settled for this capture.
And I'm glad for the reminders.

Five of them.

Sometimes it's me causing the ripples.
I can get in my own way of what I'm trying to accomplish, especially if I try too hard.
No one really knows what's happening 'behind the camera' if you don't tell them (which is both good and bad).
Beauty is beauty but perfection is an illusion.
Bug spray.

Happy Long Holiday Weekend Monday everyone.
Hoping you find your own serenity, or excitement, 

or whatever you need for this glorious day!!!

All About Me and Not About Me

 

It's raining, and I haven't been out in the kayak two days in a row, and the internet's just a tad wonky at the moment.

But I'm really okay with all of that, because -- it's raining.

Maybe I'm just feeling guilty for so thoroughly reveling in the 'total summer' weather we've had up here since we arrived June 18. All out sunshine and bring on the heatwave. Can we keep up with making the ice? Glad we brought all those freezies -- for when the kids get here!

I'm a summer girl all the way through, so all this glory makes being up here that much more idyllic for me. Plus, in the good weather, I'm all set up outside with my work station, just soaking in all the 'outdoorsy' I can. The deck becomes another 'room'. So much space and quiet and little chipmunk friends.

But today it's raining and I'm inside, and none of that is happening....and that's okay.

 

Because everywhere we need the fires to stop.
My whole life I can't remember a time when I can see and smell the smoke like this!

And while I'm enjoying all my bliss on the deck, there are valiant women and men fighting in the thick of it, putting their lives on the line to keep us safe. You are not forgotten. And we extend all gratitudes to those who have arrived from other places to help us beat back the flames.

And I think today I'm just resting in a deep state of contentment, remembering all the bigger things around me that compel me to welcome the rain.

And this is, of course, all about the rain and not about the rain.