It’s funny what comes to mind, sometimes. A casual observation, or in this case, a RobZerrvation, tumbles out of my mouth and before I know it, there is a cascade of follow-up thoughts that create an entirely different idea about what life here on this earth is all about.
Suffice it to say, I hardly have all the answers, except to say that life is definitely a journey, one that takes a lifetime to experience and the only certain payoff at the end is death.
Sorry to be a bit of a downer here, but as we know, the final destination is of little consequence to us as we rarely have any influence over it, outside of an opportunity to offer some delightful parting thoughts or words.
But it’s the actual journey that is so amazing. Each of our journeys would make Lewis & Clark’s cross-country jaunt look like a weekend stroll in the park. They at least had an idea of where they were going. For the most part, we don’t.
Even if we had a map, we would find it’s next to useless. First, our journey isn’t always on dry land, with all those options afforded to us. Rather, it can be more like a journey down a river where we’re at the mercy of ever-changing forces beyond our control.
That’s how I’ve always thought of my life. For years I was on the river, continually swimming against the current as I would say, trying to fight against every single wave of life that struck me, cursing my journey each and every day, wondering why I was caught up in such a torrent, one where calm eluded me at every twist and turn.
Small wonder I was so tired, so hopeless and ultimately, helpless. Oh sure, there were the occasional branches hanging over the river that I could grab onto to get a bit of rest. I suppose if I had had the strength I might have even been able to pull myself ashore and find a better route from the water’s edge.
But more often than not, before I could, I would catch on a snag or be pulled under by the swift current. I would fight my way madly to the surface, catch my breath, curse my rotten “luck”, and begin to swim for dear life, again upstream, never down.
There were times when I didn’t struggle to go upstream. Instead I would find a comfy inflatable and float with the current for awhile. It was rarely enjoyable, for I had no direction and was at the whim of the river, not in control of how I journeyed through it, just floating along aimlessly.
Eventually I would jump again into the current and fight anew. I guess it was natural to always try to swim upstream. What lay upriver was familiar to me. It was my past. Even though it had some very rocky shoals, at least I knew where they were. It certainly seemed safer than continuing down river, not knowing which fork to take when presented with a choice, always fearful that the one I ended up taking led to whitewater or worse, a plunging waterfall onto the rocks below.
Plus, there was always the fear that I wasn’t strong enough for the journey. As we know, the river of life can be a long, arduous and even rough adventure. The river is always changing course; it’s never a straight run from start to finish.
Sure, we have some guides along the way. I have benefitted from their advice greatly as I navigate these unfamiliar waters, but their knowledge only comes from their own river, not the one I’m being carried along in. They may have even been through the whitewater before, but it’s not my whitewater, so their counsel must always be tempered by the reminder that no one’s journey on the river of life is ever the same.
There are some things I have learned along the way, however, that may prove useful to you. First, don’t freak out about what lies just around the bend. Yes, you may take a helluva beating in the rapids that are waiting for you, but you could just as easily round the bend and find yourself in a lovely backwater, a resting place to recharge and regroup.
If you find yourself at a fork in the river, let your instincts guide you. Don’t listen to the advice of others. They’ve never been in this part of the river. They don’t know what lies beyond, even if they navigated their own river safely in a similar situation. Your instincts are rarely wrong. Don’t let all the variables and wisdom of others tell you which course to pick. Go with the flow and go with what you know.
Finally, don’t be like me. Don’t spend a lot of your life swimming upstream, trying to capture what is no longer there. As I said, the river is always changing its course, not only in the part that lies ahead, but the one that is just behind you. That comfy little spot where you once pitched camp only remains in the flood of memories you have; not in the river of no return. Some people spend their entire life trying to get back what they once had, never realizing that the journey down the river, while uncertain, is the one we’re supposed to truly enjoy, with all its twists and turns, snags, undertows, rapids and whitewater.
No, I don’t know where my river will lead me. But I do have some great companions along for the ride, and I get to enjoy parts of their own rivers on occasion. Ultimately, we all end up at the same destination, albeit via very different routes.
And as I have learned so well in the last few years, the destination will almost assuredly disappoint you, but the journey – if fully embraced and experienced – will never leave you wanting.
In the Emerald City, setting a new course, life jacket in hand,
– Robb