Ramblin' On River Odyssey (Final)

"When you think about it, life is really just a river."

~ Matt Leatherwood ~

"Excuse me, sir," I gently inquired from the back of my loaded canoe.  "Is this Nebraska City?"

"It is," he said as he glared down at me from the boat dock as if some hippie had just shown up to invade his quaint little town.

"Is this the only place I can get off the river?" I pressed just a bit further.

"It's as good a place as any," was all the gruff little man trying to launch his flat bottom boat could muster.

"Yes, sir, this is a fine place," I smiled.  "But is it the ONLY place in Nebraska City to exit the river?"

He scratched his chin, now both clearly puzzled and annoyed.  He went on to say something about a bridge a little further down and some giant embankment next to the grain elevator, but I stopped listening.  It was evident.  The river odyssey was over.

I had just rounded the last bend before the site of civilization began to appear.  As the grain elevators, houses, and finally the park and boat ramp came in to focus, I was filled with a sense of accomplishment and sadness.  After many, many years of discussion, dreaming and planning, my trip was coming to a close a full half day sooner than I expected.  I pulled the cell phone from the waterproof case where it had been stored most of the trip and called my friend to see about being picked up.  He said he'd be there in a little over an hour.  He arrived on time, we loaded the gear on the jeep and headed to town for lunch.  After 4 days of fruit and MRE's, I was hungry.

We stood at the counter of a local fast food joint and ordered our food.  As they called out the total, I reached in to my pocket for the first time in 4 days to produce a debit card which I used to pay for lunch.  As I handed the young teen behind the counter my card, the full weight of the trip being over began to sink in.  Like a movie scene where I was being sucked down a worm hole, I became firmly, if not roughly planted directly back in to civilization.

Lest I begin to sound overly dramatic, let me be clear about this.  I get the fact that I'd only been on my own for 4 days.  I hadn't been stranded in the Tundra, foraging for food and melting snow for water.  I wasn't stranded on some deserted island ala Robinson Crusoe for years on end eating only coconuts and fish.  I had merely been basically alone on a canoe, truly not all that far from civilization, for a meager 4 days.  Anyone could do that standing on their head.  There was no inherent danger and I was on charted waters.  Yet, for 4 days, I completely removed myself, as much as possible, from people, traffic and noise.  I'd spoken less than a dozen words to another human being during that time (I DID talk to myself a bit and even asked Eliot a couple questions) and was entirely alone with the voice in my head.  Very few people take the time to listen to that voice, yet we all have one.

I've already told you all about the lessons the river refreshed for me.  Being back in a small town and then finally back in a city like Dallas, Texas was, at first, overwhelming.  Everything was bigger.  Noises were louder.  Traffic was heavier.  My patience was shorter.  Now, I know what you're thinking.  "Where's the gratitude, Matt?  You should be refreshed and alive after a trip like that."  I get that.  I really do.  And I'm grateful beyond measure for the opportunity to experience a childhood dream.  But what really hit home for me upon my return to Dallas (and I'm just being honest here) was the complete insignificance of all that surrounds me in the big city.  On top of that, I felt deep sadness for those that heard only their loud radio, breathed in dirty exhaust and drudged on day after day in a job they hate.

The virtues of labor and responsibility and all that aren't lost on me.  That's probably a discussion for another time.  What I know with absolute certainty after being alone on the river, is there is more than this.  There's more to see, more to appreciate and more to experience.  There are wondrous things out there.  Dear god, how I wish people would stop long enough to see those things.  There are miracles under foot everywhere you turn, but many you'll only find if you're quiet and still.  They don't come blaring a trumpet.

I had this very thought today.  Each and every one of us start at the same place.  And regardless of the paths we choose, jobs we take, mistakes we make or miracles we perform, we ALL end up in the same place too.  It kinda makes all the things in between much less worth worrying about.  "No one gets out alive," is the quip that belongs there I believe.

Life isn't like a river.  Life IS a river.  Every little stream, creek, and river are all flowing to the same place.  Somewhere along the way, they are ALL connected.  Just like people and the way they interact with each other.  Life is flowing and we're all flowing with it whether we're fighting or resting.  As we go, things and people come and go and there simply is...no....going....back.  If you're in a place of calm now, big waves are coming.  If you're in the middle of a giant wake now, calmer water is just ahead.  That's just how it works.  That's the river.  That's life.

Will you do this?  Will you make time soon to sit still and be quiet?  Will you take a trip you've always wanted, or see something you've always wanted to see?  Will you take up that hobby?  Or for the love of god, will you just give someone a hug?  Life is flowing, it's passing and there are going to be periods of calm and storm.  Just go with it.  Live it.  Enjoy it.  You and I started at the same place and we're finishing at the same place too.

Stop sweating the small stuff.  Life is a river.  Go with it.