Sunday Night With John: A River Flows Through It
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The River Flows Through It
John Paul Derryberry
I settle into the canoe, and the paddle dips into the water. My wife and I move away from the riverbank. Not gracefully by any means, this is our first time paddling a canoe together in a long time. But we are off, and with each stroke, we begin to find our groove on a stretch of Upper Iowa River near Dorchester. Paddling a canoe can create a meditation-like atmosphere. This world provides the calming music -- the sound of the river flowing, the birds chirping, and the faint distant sound of a car on a gravel road now and then. As the constant paddling provides motion for the brain to focus on, I slowly slip into a contemplative state.
A bald eagle is flying from tree to tree in front of us, almost as if it is a guide us showing us our turns. Stroke, stroke, and stroke are the arm motions created with the paddle and who I was, who I am, and who I will be, begins to melt into one. As the day unfolds, the chatter amongst friends slows, and I fall more into my breath, the repetitive motion of paddling and peacefulness of the landscapes reminding me the world existed long before me and will long after me. This notion is a freeing thought -- to know that I can have a significant impact on those around me, but also that they will continue after I'm gone. Just like I want this river to be here for future generations to enjoy, I want people to flourish after I'm out of their life. We all should want that for others.
Our group talked of life, past, present, and future. Maybe these trips are more of a reflection of us than they are of the beauty surrounding us. Perhaps we come here because our day-to-day lives lack the space to find real thoughts, or maybe, we come to drink a beer and reconnect with friends. Regardless, we paddle this river in the same way Native Americans and the early settlers did, as a highway from point A to point B. We navigate it for recreational use, as that is the river's main function today. How will future generations use this flow I do not know yet. I do know we will have shared the same space. What did the Native Americans think about, and what will future civilizations think about this stretch of land, their lives, and their impact on the world around them?
Anne, my wife, communicates she has the next couple of paddles for me. This is a moment where I fade from the conversation, survey the scene around me, and take a peaceful stress-free breath, My past, my present, and my future successes and problems do not matter. I'm aware they will return to me soon, as no one can dodge those for long. But for this moment I'm free. I can allow the river to carry me. We all need this in life, someone to move us from time to time. We need reminders that we are bearing stress and life's hardships, but so have generations before us, and so will generations after us.
The moment ends, and the breather is over. I come back to life. The conversations with my friends and wife, the flow of the river, and the stroke of the paddle return. I'm awake with a renewed sense of why I do what I do with my time on earth: to be a river for others, to help people float when they do not think they can swim, to help those who need to take a breather from paddling and find peace in a thunderstorm of burdens. Some will come and go quickly in my life, some will bring great memories, and others will bring trouble. Just as the people who visit the Upper Iowa River do, but that does not matter to this river, as its job is to just flow. Just as it does not matter why you are in my river, it's my mission to guide you to a better destination. The world will keep turning, the river will keep flowing, and we will keep moving if we accept this truth: life gets easier as long as we help each other flow through it.