In the paper again. Was a front page story -- just a small one. It's was about the weather. No, I wasn't kayaking. A small snow storm had hit southern Vancouver Island Friday morning. The reporter was running around the mall, interviewing shoppers about the snow...and how it may have inconvenienced them that day. I was buying a new rain jacket, but hey, gee, can't say that the snow had inconvenienced me. Told the guy my homeschooled daughters measured the snow that morning as part of an experiment. 5 inches only, er, 13 cm I corrected myself. But hey, I'm from Quebec, "this ain't snow" I told him. Next day, I'm quoted partially in the paper. Must be a slow news day. Saturday afternoon I leave work a bit early when the power goes out, heading down to Oak Bay to see the waves. As they come into view, emotions flooded my mind, rushing deep down to my toes. It's a sensation that's not all too unfamiliar to me. It's been part of my life for decades. Lookie-loos had lined the roadway, observing the storm. Normally I would have had my kayak on the roof-racks. My toes would have been tingling, and my heart pounding. It's a feeling of co-mingled excitement and dread. Dread that any mariner in a small boat would head out into those rough seas. A feeling that the intended little adventure was wrong in any one's book -- not something sane to do -- yet then being inexorably drawn into the strom in one's kayak. But I can't kayak these days. So, I just looked at the seas like the rest of the boring slobs. I parked the van and trespassed across the golf course to the water. I didn't need to worry about golf balls flying on that day. My OR winter cap with double-cinch straps barely stayed on. The wind was howling -- and very cold. Waves crashed into the reefs. I think about Steve, who was supposed to do a crossing of Juan de Fuca that weekend. I hoped he didn't go. I then think of Gareth and his buddy. They were supposed to leave that weekend too, for their Victoria to Alaska paddle. I doubted they had left. I performed an experiment, standing firmly against the gusts, trying to gauge the intensity of the wind as part of an article I'm writing where a lady was blown over on the beach in a wind storm off Baffin Island. Then I just stood still and looked. My link to the sea is indissoluble, but that day at the shore this past weekend I could only observe. The winter storms are winding down. Spring is near. I've never missed paddling in a at least one winter storm. There's always a first time. But wild seas never fail to stupefy me. Daylight had started to run out. I had then gotten cold. My leg had started to hurt. I went on to engage the more cognitive machinations of mind, elucidating the environmental reality that was playing out before my eyes -- thinking how privileged I was to still be alive enough to view the spectacle that was washing in. Life is terminal, and we all die one day to be redissolved into the material component substances of earth and sea. I finally made the spiritual connection I was seeking. I then visualized myself blasting over the shore break, headed for adventure, breathing hard, pushing on the paddle to the max.. At the point where the demarcation between the inner and outer mind dissipated, I headed back to the van. In a sense, I had made it out in my kayak. I was satisfied and happy again. I got home late for dinner, then talked to my wife about the weather -- and other usual stuff. But she wonders why I was late home. Doug Lloyd *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - Any opinions or suggestions expressed here are solely those of the writer(s). You must assume the entire responsibility for reliance upon them. All postings copyright the author. Submissions: PaddleWise_at_PaddleWise.net Subscriptions: PaddleWise-request_at_PaddleWise.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************
<<I finally made the spiritual connection I was seeking. >> very beautiful "peace" (started out as a typo for "piece" but I left it), Doug. After what you've been and are going through, I can imagine how this ordeal has been a mind-altering experience. Well, folks...looks as if Doug is back..and in good writing form. sandy kramer miami where it is soo warm (upper 80s but the backyard thermometer hit a 100F (40C) over the weekend. actually swam in the pool *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - Any opinions or suggestions expressed here are solely those of the writer(s). You must assume the entire responsibility for reliance upon them. All postings copyright the author. Submissions: PaddleWise_at_PaddleWise.net Subscriptions: PaddleWise-request_at_PaddleWise.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************
On Monday, March 11, 2002, at 12:49:50 AM PST, Doug Lloyd wrote: > I finally made the spiritual connection I was seeking. I then > visualized myself blasting over the shore break, headed for > adventure, breathing hard, pushing on the paddle to the max.. At the > point where the demarcation between the inner and outer mind > dissipated, I headed back to the van. In a sense, I had made it out > in my kayak. I was satisfied and happy again. Thank you Doug. I knew that even before you got your feet - or your head? - wet again, your spirit would once again dance on the waves. All it took was a bit of wind to draw you out. I too, understand the adrenaline rush of paddling in [relatively] heavy seas, and I also recognize that in addition to/in spite of the purely physical challenge of the moment, it is our intimate spiritual connection to the sea that is most deeply felt. It is the happy calm we feel in the midst of the storm, the almost unreal beauty of our experience of life. Welcome back fellow sea spirit. Melissa -- PGP public keys: mailto:pgp_keys_at_gmx.co.uk?subject=PGP_Keys_1&Body=Please%20send%20keys *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - Any opinions or suggestions expressed here are solely those of the writer(s). You must assume the entire responsibility for reliance upon them. All postings copyright the author. Submissions: PaddleWise_at_PaddleWise.net Subscriptions: PaddleWise-request_at_PaddleWise.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************
Doug, Welcome back! This was just lovely to read. I think you could have titled this "How's Doug." Glad to see you're doing so well and that you're enjoying paddling even if you're not getting wet. Your spirit is surely back, and I'm sure the body will soon be where you want it to be as well. Hank > > Saturday afternoon I leave work a bit early when the power goes out, > heading down to Oak Bay to see the waves. As they come into view, > emotions flooded my mind, rushing deep down to my toes. It's a sensation > that's not all too unfamiliar to me. It's been part of my life for > decades. Lookie-loos had lined the roadway, observing the storm. > Normally I would have had my kayak on the roof-racks. My toes would have > been tingling, and my heart pounding. It's a feeling of co-mingled > excitement and dread. Dread that any mariner in a small boat would head > out into those rough seas. A feeling that the intended little adventure > was wrong in any one's book -- not something sane to do -- yet then > being inexorably drawn into the strom in one's kayak. > > But I can't kayak these days. So, I just looked at the seas like the > rest of the boring slobs. I parked the van and trespassed across the > golf course to the water. I didn't need to worry about golf balls flying > on that day. My OR winter cap with double-cinch straps barely stayed on. > The wind was howling -- and very cold. Waves crashed into the reefs. I > think about Steve, who was supposed to do a crossing of Juan de Fuca > that weekend. I hoped he didn't go. I then think of Gareth and his > buddy. They were supposed to leave that weekend too, for their Victoria > to Alaska paddle. I doubted they had left. I performed an experiment, > standing firmly against the gusts, trying to gauge the intensity of the > wind as part of an article I'm writing where a lady was blown over on > the beach in a wind storm off Baffin Island. > > Then I just stood still and looked. My link to the sea is indissoluble, > but that day at the shore this past weekend I could only observe. The > winter storms are winding down. Spring is near. I've never missed > paddling in a at least one winter storm. There's always a first time. > But wild seas never fail to stupefy me. Daylight had started to run out. > I had then gotten cold. My leg had started to hurt. I went on to engage > the more cognitive machinations of mind, elucidating the environmental > reality that was playing out before my eyes -- thinking how privileged I > was to still be alive enough to view the spectacle that was washing in. > Life is terminal, and we all die one day to be redissolved into the > material component substances of earth and sea. I finally made the > spiritual connection I was seeking. I then visualized myself blasting > over the shore break, headed for adventure, breathing hard, pushing on > the paddle to the max.. At the point where the demarcation between the > inner and outer mind dissipated, I headed back to the van. In a sense, I > had made it out in my kayak. I was satisfied and happy again. I got home > late for dinner, then talked to my wife about the weather -- and other > usual stuff. But she wonders why I was late home. > > Doug Lloyd > *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - Any opinions or suggestions expressed here are solely those of the writer(s). You must assume the entire responsibility for reliance upon them. All postings copyright the author. Submissions: PaddleWise_at_PaddleWise.net Subscriptions: PaddleWise-request_at_PaddleWise.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************
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