The kids have departed. They now play with their kitty cats on opposite ends of the country.
Your blogger is still remembering the last week. Her son departed for San Diego early last week; her daughter still remained until yesterday.
Her daughter urged a hike along the Slate River on Tuesday. We spent a couple of hours walking downstream. I swear, dear reader, that this enterprise involved a few unused muscles.
I ached for two days afterwards. (Which was nothing new since Daughter decided to visit and keep her Mama hopping from 5K’s to river walks to kayaking expeditions.)
You know what’s strange lately?
I have much less desire to chronicle Life for the World.
For five years I’ve chronicled Life for the World with photos and stories. (In fact this is the 800th post of Life chronicled on Lake Superior Spirit since 2010, which is not counting all the years before that on various other blogs.)
Lately, this desire has eased in intensity.
I walk on the river and desire to be walking on the river.
I don’t want to be telling stories in my head or taking photos.
Just want to be walking along the river.
The same thing happened while kayaking.
I did not want to be taking pictures.
(You never know. Said blogger may end up in the “drink” and lose camera evermore.)
I did not want to be telling stories.
Just wanted to be kayaking.
One paddle, two paddle.
One ore dock.
No stories in the mind.
Just paddle in, paddle out. Paddle in, paddle out.
One wild & precious moment passing like waves on Lake Superior.
One wild & precious moment with toes in the kayak.
One wild & precious moment that I just deeply wanted to experience.
And you, my friend?
Do you feel the same way?
Do you want to merge so deeply with the moment that you’re married to it? That there’s nothing else except the roar of the waterfall, the aching muscles, the orange of the kayak, the indignant honking of seagulls, the delight of what’s unfolding next?
Sometimes it is wonderful to get lost in something and to get so immersed that sharing it would spoil it–this was a very poetic post
Thank you, LouAnn. I really am enjoying fully being in what’s arising these days. It feels so good just to be walking in the river and trying not to fall in. 🙂
if it is shallow it might feel good–at least here it is crazy hot
Darn these crazy hot days! Find a river asap… Hope your mosquitoes aren’t as bad as ours this summer. We’re being eaten alive.
so are we so my husband says, I am staying inside as much as possible
Kathy, I think that being with your daughter made all of that “enough.” Missing my own two daughters, I realize how much brighter everything is when they are near. Your ability to “be in the moment fully” is enough of a message to us all. Loved the photos as always.
Susan, I’ve missed seeing you! Hoping all is well. May your two daughters brighten your days soon. Glad you enjoyed K’s photos. She didn’t mind sharing them thank goodness. May this moment be “enough” for all of us.
I think sometimes we tell the stories and take the photos because we don’t trust the moment. Or perhaps we don’t trust ourselves in the moment. Those fleeting, unforgettable, glorious, presents (presences?) escape us and we want to hold onto them always. It is the Tibetan Buddhists who spend days making beautiful art from colored sand and then at the last moment brush it all away sending it out into the universe. The impermanence is the lesson the Western world cannot seem to accept. The joy is in the now. The memory will come when it’s needed, there is no need to hang on quite so tightly. – If only I could do it!
Lisa, that is so interesting. Trusting the moment to be just as it seems like a lifetime of learning sometimes… Impermanence is certainly the only truth. What a lovely comment. I suspect one of the reasons we’re on earth is to learn to relax more deeply in the Now, and, gosh, it can be challenging for us humans at times.
Being in the moment is the most precious thing you can do. Fully enjoying what you are doing when you are doing it … is there anything better? I don’t think so. Therefore, congratulations on being able to do that.
The memories of those times will make better stories ….
Thanks, bearyweather. It feels good not to be telling stories in my head all the time. 🙂 Not that the stories aren’t arising sometimes… Enjoy your northern summer, my friend, and may the mosquitoes disappear NOW!
Yep, sometimes we are so busy trying to preserve the moment through word or photo that we forget to live the moment.
That is so true, Kat. I’m not sure if my motivation has been to preserve the moment. It feels like it’s been more the motivation to share it, to get others involved, not to be so alone. Or something similar…
I love being married to Sunday afternoon on the porch reading one book til I finished it. Then, contemplating the bees in the linden, told a small story on my website and stopped over at yours. Spruce Lake in two weeks. Shall we meet? xooxxo S
It would be lovely to meet this time, Suzi! May your poetic self send an email or give a phone call and we shall meet. Be prepared for mosquitoes. Worse skeeter summer in years.
I understand completely. I lived in the UP for 8 years and my mom constantly bugged me about writing things down. of course part of that was laziness but the other part was exactly what you said Every time I wasn’t near Lake Superior I was missing it. I’m in OH now and I try to get back as often as possible just so I can see the Lake. It’s in my veins. The hikes, the shoreline, the winters, everything. They are all flowing through me. It’s true what they say. Every time you visit you leave a part of you there. Some it might be an atom or a sliver and others a massive chunk but it is true. What’s the song say? “I left my heart in San Francisco.” Well. Mine is on Great Sand Bay half way between Eagle River and Eagle Harbor in the Keweenaw Peninsula. Please keep blogging! For my sake! 🙂
Northwoodsnomad, I know exactly where your heart is. Can almost picture it along that wild shoreline. Guess what? One of my friends just bought a place up there somewhere, maybe closer to Copper Harbor. Hoping you to visit this beloved land again soon. Thanks for visiting my blog, but we’ll have to see whether the sharing urge continues. It’s continued for five years or longer, so we’ll see.
This resonates, “my blogger.” So beautifully expressed (wonderful photos, too). For me, there is something about being with Nature or family, or both, that gladly requires every atom to be present with it/them. Sometimes pictures “fit” into the scenario; sometimes not.
Five years of chronicling Life for the World is a long time! I’m so glad you did — and might still, when you want. Also glad that you had both your bebs, albeit briefly, home at the same time. What joy that brings. Thank you for this offering today!
Good morning, Susan Dee! So glad to see you here, as always. Gosh, it’s been such a wonderful experience to have chronicled for so long. We shall see what the Muses want to do next. I do want to be more in the moment, more in the body for a while. We shall see, we shall see. When shall we meet?
I often wonder why I am so compelled to take photographs. Why I feel less a part of a walk if I’m not taking photos. I thin it’s about fear. Fear of forgetting. Of wanting to capture not just the image, but through the image, the moment for future savouring. Sometimes I even think about what I’ll say about where I am or what I’m doing in a future post.
I haven’t been blogging as long as you have.
Interesting to note that you are the second long-term blogger to express a similar feeling. Sorta like a blogging ennui Been there — said that.
Sybil, isn’t it fascinating to wonder why we’re compelled to do something? And to discover if it’s really about fear or joy. This morning was going to post something on Facebook and thought “Why?” What is the point? What and who is this serving? Not getting any definitive answers; just sitting with the questions. I like your comment here. I love your “real” honesty.
I echo Susan D’s closing statement “Thank you for this offering today!” I have a need to share experiences. Sometimes if someone isn’t along for something I imagine what I would be telling a friend or a relative if they were with me. Thank Kiah for the beautiful pictures. I have such kayak envy. With my size I have Cork Fear. You shove me in a little hole and you would need a cork screw to get me out.
I am sorry to have smiled about Cork Fear, John. Only smiling because there was a small bit of fear around me getting out of the kayak onto that dock. My legs were so sore after the river hike and would not hold me up. Had to end up scooting the butt onto the dock and, luckily, not falling in the drink. But it could have been dicey. I will tell K of your appreciation of her photos.
You’ve certainly created a lot of entries, (I’m just coming up on 300 posts) so it’s not surprising to learn that you’re not as enamored of it as you once were. I can certainly understand your desire to be out in the world, experiencing those special moments, instead of writing about them. You might want to invest in a waterproof camera, though, if you insist on taking pictures while kayaking! lol
I, too, find that blogging is becoming more of a chore than a joy. I prefer to be out with friends and family or enjoying my new crafting space than hanging out in a virtual world, but I do enjoy reading whatever you decide to share with us. 🙂
Withershins, I was so glad to have my daughter along taking photos of this trip. I could just see me dropping the Canon Rebel in the drink–YIKES! Interesting that you are feeling like blogging is more of a chore than joy. That seems to be the time to listen to our hearts and allow the energy to move towards a new direction, doesn’t it? I will continue to blog–but only if joy wants to express itself like it has a lot during the past many years.
Thinking of you Kathy, your wild and precious moments and your time with Chris and Kiah. And yes, I have been feeling this too.
Colleen, hoping you enjoy all the footsteps and sandy walks and salty tears and belly laughter your soul can hold! Thank you for your wild & precious self.
My sister, who was here for a few weeks left Thursday to go home. I found myself trying to memorize her somehow on Wednesday. Because it’s so hard to let the go again once they’ve been home.
Dawn, I know just what you mean. You were so lucky to have your sister for a few weeks. It can be so empty after our loved ones leave. Last time I was home I tried to memorize my mom and dad…
I’m still in camera and story mode, but am deeply happy for your peace. Even if it means you share less online. Even if I miss your stories. Enjoy each passing moment. You never know when today might not drift into tomorrow.
Yes, you are going HOG WILD in camera and story mode, Heather, and it’s fun to see. You remind me when I was a young blogger… LOL! We shall see where the kayak of life drifts next…
I’m feeling pleasant. For a moment, I was totally indulged in the world you have displayed. Paddling in, paddling out. Smooth. Thank you dear Kathy. Such an awesome feeling early this morning.
Sonali, I am glad you could feel the paddling in, paddling out in your soul. Now watch out–you might get splashed!!!
I love how you capture the moment while saying you don’t feel the need to do it. Very clever!
I so often feel a need to say something–and it’s opposite–in the same essay, Lucinda. (So as to not leave out anything in the Circle of Life.)
Lovely moments you’ve presented here. I think you know how I feel about capturing the moment in photos ( a minor obsession) but I do know what you mean about sometimes just wanting to be in the moment and nothing more. I do hope you’ll continue to share stories as you feel you’d like to – never because you feel you have to.
Enjoy your obsession, Karma! It is so fun when we’re caught in the thrill of an obsession (well, sometimes it’s fun). I think of the song that there’s a time for every season. There’s a time for taking photos and a time for splashing in the water. There’s a time for telling stories and a time for silence. There’s a time for everything under heaven…
There are time when my Inner-Writer has a burst of creativity and feels the need to share its words.
But then there are times when it just wants to be still and quiet. I think this is its way of telling me that these are the times when it wants me to just enjoy something-and that I don’t need to write about every detail of my thoughts or experiences.
It sounds like you’ve a achieved a balance between sharing and silence, Nancy. The best achievement! My challenge is that I did a 365-day blog and grew very attached to sharing. It didn’t feel like the day was complete unless it had been chronicled. 🙂
Always. And the more I’m ‘deep in the moment,’ the more I ignore my little Iphone camera and just…dig in for the moment. Maybe days later, or weeks, I’ll bring the moment back while I write, alone, at my computer. But not until I savor every last bit of ‘moment-ness.’
Looks like you had a wonderful savory time with your two ‘kids.’ Just always too short.
I love reading what everyone is sharing about their in-the-momentness! Sounds like you’ve found a perfect balance between sharing and being present. Cool! Yes, the time with the kids was indeed “savory”. I like that word a lot.
Last week in Home Depot I encountered an angel. No kidding. A young man (mid-20’s maybe?) came up to me in the mosquito repellent section and said, “Because of your dogs, you’ll want to get this…” How’d he know I have a dog; let alone dogS (as in plural)?
Shirt sleeves rolled up, the tattoo on the inside of his left forearm was an old fashioned pocket watch, face open, to the words NOW. There were no numbers or clock hands, just the single word NOW. I took that angelic reminder very seriously.
Laurie, this is one COOL angelic reminder! Don’t you love it when this happens? Thank you for sharing this story.
I feel like that sometimes when I am walking in the mountains and there is just me and the view and the sound of the wind in the trees.
You express it beautifully Kathy.
Aren’t those moments precious, Kerry? I could almost hear the sound of the wind in the trees in your comment. Thank you.
Kathy you and the influence of Mary Oliver’s poem take the words from my heart and organize them with compassion and understanding in this post. I keep thinking it is just summer. Maybe in the fall I will be more willing to chronicle my adventures and painting processes at Creative Potager again. But it might not happen. I just might say a few short words and add an image now again on facebook, twitter and G+ without a thought for overall engagement with readers. My wild and precious moments just may remain unblogged, unrecorded and dissolve into my everyday… maybe showing up in a flick of paint on a canvas or the warn knees of my jeans from getting low for that photograph. Not such a bad thing I think. No, not at all. Ahhhh, the freedom it brings forth just to think about it!
We may be coming from a similar feeling at this time. I have so enjoyed chronicling for so long, but now it feels so free to just “be”. Most of today have putzed around the house going back to bare “being” again and again and again. It feels good. Thank you for sharing your enthusiasm for dissolving into the everyday for a while or forever or …?
I think that after the 5K, I’d be soaking my feet in that beautiful river and communing with nature. You’d have a hard time prying me away from that spot.
Oh, Editor, that beautiful river was a lovely spot in which to commune. However walking in the river, and trying to stay upright against the current, was a challenge for the sore muscles of the 5K. I actually hurt WORSE after the river walk, but the adventure revived the spirit… Thank you for stopping by.
I now give myself (and my wife) camera-free days at home or while on vacation. It is both a relief and a break when I do so. Very freeing but I always return to it and sharing what I have seen with others.
Do as you wish, Kathy, we would not want it any other way. Until your return…aloha.
I suspect you return because you love photography, Scott. I can’t picture you leaving your camera behind permanently.
Yes, I do feel this way sometimes, Kathy. Not wanting to write about life, just wanting to be. And then sometimes the being is the difficult part, so writing makes it less so. Just depends, I guess. ❤
Being IS the difficult part, Stacy, or so our minds want us to believe. You are so right–it just depends. 🙂
More often than not I feel like I don’t want to chronicle but sometimes the mood changes mid-course. That was ultimately why I bought my “purse camera”–always ready just in case… The biggest benefit is not I never feel guilty because if something really needs to be photographed I still can do it (even if it isn’t quite as nice as the better camera).
Inger, it’s certainly true that our moods can change mid-course. Mine have done that hundreds of times during five years. Your purse camera sounds like a lovely option for you. That way you’re always prepared, and then you can decide what feels right.
Yes, I definitely feel like this sometimes too, the camera doesn’t always have to be there, or a light version just in case the mood changes 😉
A good plan, June! Glad to hear you feel the same way sometimes, as well.
Hello! Have a good weekend!
The same to you, Marko.
I think I wrote for me and then I got caught up in blogging every day and then I hated every moment of feeling obligated to fulfill the obligation. I still am alone and wish I could have learned how to be a grandmother, made memories with my grandson. Hard to do when they live so far away. Sometimes this alonness makes me want to say to someone, anyone: look at me; I am here; I am not invisible. This I find is in the collective unconscious of many liked minded folk. I treasure having met you; however, you are still in this world and I can reach out and touch you. In the meantime BE. Just BE.
Linda, I think our feelings and motivations with blogging keep changing all the time. One week I can feel one way; the next week another way. We shouldn’t blog when we feel obligated–however, that is easier said than done at times. We can have complicated conflicting feelings about that.
I know what you mean–well, perhaps in a small way–about not wanting to be invisible. Living here in the woods used to make me feel invisible in many ways. Part of me longed to be living next to people, in a large extended family. Blogging and Internet relationships have eased that desire and have made the world closer.
I so agree about this being in the collective unconscious of many of us. Thank you for sharing this.
To capture the moment, Kathy, to just be and experience life at this precise time. No questioning, no judgement, no wondering what’s to come, just be. Float (or in your case paddle 🙂 ) and find your inner peace and tranquility. We all have snapshot moments, ones we know we’ll relive over and over again in our minds. and enjoy. thank you for sharing yours . xPenx
I LOVE Being, Pen! I love the waves lapping in and out, just being present with whatever presents itself. It sounds like you do, as well.
There’s nothing like being in the flow of life and just going with it. Or paddling with it. 🙂
Ooops. Hit that “Post Comment” button much too quickly. Meant to add that a letter from a friend arrived today. 🙂
Oh I’m so glad you received a letter in the mail to the Wabi-Sabi Ranch. May we continue to go with the flow…and forgive ourselves 100% when it doesn’t happen…
I came across your post way down here in central Ohio. Thanks for sharing your thoughts!
Thanks for stopping by and commenting. I am glad you enjoyed my site.
Beautifully shared… I know that feeling too, Kathy. Glad you had such a lovely, peaceful paddle on the lake with Kiah.
It was a lovely time on the lake, Reggie. Thank you for paddling with us for a few moments.