Standing on that high summit I focused on my position, ensured I knew and sensed where the edges where, and then gazed out... one at a time... upon the four points of the compass...In the North I could just make out, encased in clouds, a mountain climbed decades ago with a friend no longer present... It was a summit of the past but one that has never let go of us, such a challenge it was...
I turn and in the West I could not make out a coastline yet could envision it in my mind, and feel the motions of my kayak, the sensations of the paddle, and the gentle rolling of the waves...
I turn again, and to the South flows one of the rivers I admire out here... They are the veins and life blood of the land... Inviting in their energy; demanding respect for their power, allowing us to touch them by kayak, canoe, or raft...
I pause for a moment to muse how we all have such points of the compass in our own adventures and life... They point out from us yet reflect the desires, inspirations, and memories within us...
Then I turn once again, and in the East, I spend more time gazing, upon looking, within wondering... as I could just make out the course of a future trail yet to be taken. It will be a long journey of another kind... Along that point of the compass.....
DSD
2 comments:
I will never look at my compass the same again, thanks for that.
But we must also remember, that not all who wander are lost. Sometimes it is nice to not worry about directions and just go.
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