Navigating the unknown river

I used to do a lot of canoeing. In the early 1970’s and into the 1980’s my husband and I would pack up our Volkswagen camper, strap our Old Town Canoe on the top, and head up to the pristine waters of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area in Northern Minnesota. The BWCA. Just imagine. An entire wilderness area designated as and named for motor-less paddling. The effort to protect this wilderness area began in the early 1900’s and culminated in 1978 with the BWCA Wilderness Act. Although there are some lakes that allow for motorized boats and snowmobiles, the area remains one of the best examples of a mostly unspoiled wilderness areas in the country.

We would often set up a base camp in a campground off the Gunflint Trail, and pack our dogs and provisions for several days before heading out to paddle across one lake connected by a land portage to another lake. We had charts and maps to help us locate the well-hidden portages. Often, we would not even know where the portage was located until we unintentionally paddled over a hidden log in the water that pointed the way to a narrow passage through the woods that lead to the next lake on our path across part of the Land of 10,000 Lakes.

Occasionally, the connection between the lakes was a river to navigate and even more rarely, we had to navigate some mild to moderate river rapids. A drop in elevation of the landscape creates river rapids and thus the river flow accelerates as it flows down this rocky river path. Hidden ocks and rocky ridges cause the water to churn and agitate. They appear chaotic and threatening. And they can be threatening. A person could be paddling a calm river, and come around a bucolic bend in the river to suddenly be greeted by the sound of water rushing over rocky surfaces, and the sight of the elevation of the river dropping before you. There is a way to navigate this daunting scene. The trick of paddling safely through the rapids is to head to the middle of the chaotic water, where the barely recognizable two patterns of rushing water converge. With a keen eye, you can see the V shaped pattern in the middle of the rapids, created by the water spilling over the submerged rocky terrain on either side. The untrained paddler might want to head to the edges of these turbulent patterns, seduced by the relative calm water there. However, under those edges are hidden the various rocks, large and small, soft and hard, that contribute to the pattern of water spilling into the middle of the water. The only way to safely navigate the rapids is to paddle hard and head for the middle.

This scene seems to be an apt metaphor for life. We can become seduced by the periods of calm and predictability in our lives. We are often paddling along a peaceful river stretch in our life, only to be taken by surprise as we come around a turn in the river, a bend in the road, and are confronted with another rapids to navigate. Sometimes, instinct or fear or both, send us to the deceptively smoother edges of the river of life. However, we soon realize we are not safe by heading to these edges. Soon it becomes apparent that there is no escaping the turbulence in our path. The submerged rocks and deceptive surfaces can threaten our stability and even the worthiness of our vessel. These deceptions come in the form of denial, avoidance, blaming other, and especially destructive, is when we blame ourselves. This temptation to give up and let ourselves feel like a failure, is like an old trickster in our lives. Brenee’ Brown does an excellent job of describing the voice of shame as the voice that, when you are afraid of failure, says you are worthless and incapable. And paradoxically, that same voice, when you are feeling confident or satisfied will quickly say, who do you think you are? attempting to bring you back to the familiar fear of failing.

The paradox of the navigation of the river is that by keeping your eye on the “V”, the place where the turbulence comes together, and by paddling with a steady confidence towards that middle path, you will most often come out on the other side in calmer waters. However, just like in life, the trip through the rapids is not for the faint of heart. You must be willing to stay the course, to keep paddling, to keep momentum, and to trust that this most challenging path will be difficult but will lead to new insight and a delightful pool of calm water.

Where ever your river is now leading you, whether you are currently paddling with ease, and following a gentle flow of current, or whether you are within sight and sound of the rapids ahead, keep you paddle in your hand, and trust that by exploring the turbulence ahead, you will find new strength and confidence. Calmer waters wait on the other side.

Janet Elizabeth Hartwick Sterk