The sky was a pristine blue. The water, a perfect glass reflection of the clouds and treeline above. We floated casually, a barge of canoes hunkered down with every luxury, cooler and treat you could want. This was no survival expedition. This was the high life, to kick up our feet, soak in the sun's warmth, and do Nothing.
Doing Nothing is not as easy as it sounds. Plenty have joined us on the trip, and halfway into the first day, they get antsy. "Do we paddle now?" "I feel like I should be doing something."
"Ride it out," we say. Or maybe, "oh, we're doing something. We're flushing the mental toilet." I return to focusing on my sunscreen, my beer, and straightening the rubber ducky I have taped to the bow of my canoe as a masthead.
And they itch! They struggle! 'What do you mean, Do Nothing? What are we doing out here?'
The time comes to answer nature's call, and they hesitantly flop out of the canoe. Good humor is waning as they helplessly struggle to swing back in. With shaky elbows and exhausted shoulders, they give up. Stuck in the water. Just can't do it.
Again, the others are disaffected. They're old pros.
I'll throw you a floatie and a beer. Since all strength has gone out of your arms, you are relieved to bob along next to the barge and slug back someone else's half-frozen beer.
The unthinkable happens. The barge swings into a faster current and you fall behind. Rather than pick up a paddle, we throw you another beer. Relax, we tell you. The lord will provide. 'Lord? What Lord?' you think, exasperated, as the distance between you and the barge widens. But, you are stuck out here with these nut jobs, so you do as you're told. You relax. You drink your slushy beverage tossed in after you. You float on, just a bouncy head sticking out of a ratty orange life preserver in the middle of a huge river. An eagle soars overhead. A fish flops by the shore. Kids wave to you from a dock.
The barge has entangled in some obstacle by the shore and comes to a stop. You cruise back to them, having gotten the hang of the float. You generously untangle the boats and the barge breaks free. You are invigorated by saving the day, and feel reenergized to try again to get into your canoe. You swing, you snap, you kick, and gracelessly flop in like a beached whale. Success! The sun blazes you dry, and you are relieved. Warm and happy to be back in your seat, doing nothing. You get it now.
Doing Nothing is not as easy as it sounds. Plenty have joined us on the trip, and halfway into the first day, they get antsy. "Do we paddle now?" "I feel like I should be doing something."
"Ride it out," we say. Or maybe, "oh, we're doing something. We're flushing the mental toilet." I return to focusing on my sunscreen, my beer, and straightening the rubber ducky I have taped to the bow of my canoe as a masthead.
And they itch! They struggle! 'What do you mean, Do Nothing? What are we doing out here?'
The time comes to answer nature's call, and they hesitantly flop out of the canoe. Good humor is waning as they helplessly struggle to swing back in. With shaky elbows and exhausted shoulders, they give up. Stuck in the water. Just can't do it.
Again, the others are disaffected. They're old pros.
I'll throw you a floatie and a beer. Since all strength has gone out of your arms, you are relieved to bob along next to the barge and slug back someone else's half-frozen beer.
The unthinkable happens. The barge swings into a faster current and you fall behind. Rather than pick up a paddle, we throw you another beer. Relax, we tell you. The lord will provide. 'Lord? What Lord?' you think, exasperated, as the distance between you and the barge widens. But, you are stuck out here with these nut jobs, so you do as you're told. You relax. You drink your slushy beverage tossed in after you. You float on, just a bouncy head sticking out of a ratty orange life preserver in the middle of a huge river. An eagle soars overhead. A fish flops by the shore. Kids wave to you from a dock.
The barge has entangled in some obstacle by the shore and comes to a stop. You cruise back to them, having gotten the hang of the float. You generously untangle the boats and the barge breaks free. You are invigorated by saving the day, and feel reenergized to try again to get into your canoe. You swing, you snap, you kick, and gracelessly flop in like a beached whale. Success! The sun blazes you dry, and you are relieved. Warm and happy to be back in your seat, doing nothing. You get it now.
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