“As we sail thru life, don't avoid rough waters, sail on because calm waters won't make a skillful sailor”
~ Unknown ~
"It is a mistake to try to look too far ahead. The chain of destiny can only be grasped one link at a time."
~ Winston Churchill ~
In a recent training operation put on by my local Urban Search and Rescue Team, I learned the significant difference between "information" and "intelligence." Information, of course, can come from a variety of sources and may or not be useable or even accurate. Intelligence, on the other hand, is that bit of useful and accurate information found hidden in the mountains of information. In this particular case, a well-meaning friend who informed me barges were no longer pushed up the Missouri River could be classified as information. The fact that I actually MET a barge being pushed up the Missouri River would be classified as intelligence. Unfortunately, that bit of intel was a bit late.
I was still on the final leg of my odyssey and had just waved so-long to my coyote friend. Overcome with the joy of my trip and meloncholy of the impending end, I settled back in the Ramblin' On for an easy coast to my final destination; time, mileage and speed unknown. I found a smooth, easy current along the west bank of the river and just let my mind wander. The view was a little fuzzy at first. In fact, I wasn't so sure I wasn't imagining things, much like one would after days in the desert. But as the object grew closer, there was no doubt. I was about to meet a barge. Information decoded. This was solid Intel.
I moved yet closer to the west bank, hoping to pass the tug pushing four large tankers on his port side. As the vessel approached, it seemed the pilot had other ideas as he loomed closer and closer to the same bank while trying to negotiate a wide, sweeping turn of the river. It became evident I would have to cross to the east bank or be swamped. I stowed my camera in the water-proof case and, for one of the few times on my trip, paddled as if it meant something. I dug in deep and came about for the opposite shore. I made it in ample time to grab a picture of the vessel as it passed. And then came the obvious realization: I was about to come face-to-face with an enormous wake. There was no avoiding it.
I understand enough about boating to know the best way to handle an onslaught of waves is head on. In some instances, meeting them at a 45 degree angle is best, but I set the bow for a direct hit by the large waves and braced my feet inside the canoe. And then they came. Large, rolling clouds of water pitched the bow of the canoe up and then down, up and then down. It was actually a nice change to the peaceful floating I had been doing and the initial attack of waves faded quickly. But the wake on a large body of water like a lake or ocean is one thing. The waves trapped inside the banks of a river are quite another and I momentarily overlooked that fact.
As each round of waves passed, they ricocheted off the opposing bank and came back for another round, this time hitting me from behind. At the same time, waves initially moving away from me, hit THAT bank and came back at a much different angle, eventually mingling with all the other waves and making a sort of hodgepodge of wavery. It didn't matter which way you pointed the craft, the waves were coming from every direction. It was only mildly frightening and soon things began to settle. To my surprise, however, I was MILES downstream and past the barge before the waters returned to their usual calm. It was in that vortex of waves and the ensuing choppiness of the water that I realized my third lesson.
Life comes with rough waters and they take time to settle. I feel certain that each and every one of us have been floating along in calm seas only to be met face-to-face with a surprise occurence that left huge turbulence in it's wake. And I'm betting that in most of those instances, we've chosen to meet the waves head on or be swamped. That's generally what we do. It's what we HAVE to do. But the most important realization about my own recovery from a huge barge in the river of life was the behavior of the waves AFTER.
Anytime we're met with rough waters, the initial crash of waves is the most brutal. Or at least we think so. They pass momentarily and we think we've made it beyond the worst of it. And then the second wave comes, followed by a third. Soon the waves are all crashing around us and we realize that as difficult as the first hit was, there's plenty of confusing, rough, and perhaps more difficult water ahead. We do our very best to keep our "canoe" pointed in the right direction and hold on for dear life. After some time, the worst of it IS truly over, but it is miles and miles before our waters return to calm. That's how we grieve. That is the process of healing.
If there is one constant in this life, it's change. If you're drifting in calm waters now, make no mistake. Rough waters will come, perhaps even when you least expect it. If you're fighting rough waters now, you can be sure the waters will calm once again. Just don't be surprised if it's a bit further downstream than you expected. That's just how life flows, remember?
Don't fear the unexpected or oversteer the boat. Rough waters will come and when they do, simply do your best and know things will be calm soon. Use this tidbit of information and convert it to useable intelligence when you need it most. Because you will. At one time or another we all will. And no matter how rough the waters get, try to remember you're still on a boat coasting down river and you're still afloat. Even at it's worst, that ain't so bad.
Happy boating.
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