People ask me why I choose to do the many things I do. I think they worry I take on too much. Yes I get tired and troubled and confused but so far, I don’t feel overwhelmed. I just feel it is important to pay attention and this is why I choose to do the things I do. When I need help, I know how to ask for it.
It was not a large rock, but enough to become an obstruction. The rock rolled on the river bed for a while but at a point where the river narrowed, it lodged itself on the sandy bottom. The motion of the water was not enough to move it along. Sticks and leaves and other debris drifted and caught in the rock’s eddy.
Kids in inner tubes laughed and splashed down the river and if their tube didn’t just bounce off the rock, a little kick would bump them back into the gentle flow of the river and on their way. Canoes and kayaks passed by the rock, paddles easily navigating their vessels at a safe distance in the peacefully flowing river. Once a fisherman waded to the rock in his hip boots and rolled it with his heel, dislodging it slightly but then it stayed firm and he sauntered on to a wider and clearer bend in the river.
I walk in the shallow water of the river’s edge pulling my row-boat behind me. I see the rock, its position in the curve of the river and the way it sits, in the middle of it all, slimming passage by its awkward position. And so I pick it up, hefting it against my belly, and carry it to my boat. I bend and place it by the spines of the hull where I have gathered other such rocks on my walk in the water. I walk a little further to where the water deepens and then, climb aboard and let the river gently carry me and my boat downstream.