Reflections on Nature and Life
After three days of relentless rain, the sun finally graced the waterfront. The clichéd notion of moving here seems unnecessary. Following the epic downpours and flooding, I'm reminded of a beautiful quote:
"Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it."
All good things—salmon fishing as well as eternal salvation—come by grace; and grace comes by art; and art does not come easy.
This 2011 World Tour has been a grace period of kindness and favor bestowed upon me by family, old and new friends along the way, and strangers who weren't so strange after all, assisting me to live the dream of a world traveler. Yet, I constantly feel guided by hidden hands.
I am one lucky traveler. Joseph Campbell was right: the waters of eternal life are right there when you are following your bliss. You can teach an old dogma new tricks.
The river was carved by the world's great flood and flows over rocks from the basement of time. On some of those rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.
Alaska: If it doesn't kill you, it will make you stronger. In this case, the salmon don't make it. So much for "going with the flow." To make matters worse, young bears bulk up on salmon for a long winter's sleep. Why do they do it? The urge to merge—the Pacific Northwestern salmon is determined to travel hundreds of miles upstream against the current, with a single purpose: reproduction, and thus, life.
Any fish can fail and get caught. But a salmon's struggle is a disaster of epic proportions. Witnessing this "programming" makes me feel more alive because it didn't happen to me. The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness. Just a touch-and-go operation today, and it's déjà vu—access to thousands of acres of green spruce and fjord-like glacial melt.
I'm not stopping to ask for directions.
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