The Other Side: A Reflection from the Middle of the River
Being near a river is not the same as being in it. You could chill on the bank all day, enjoying the sound and admiring the water's power while thinking about getting to the other side. But all that planning goes out the window once the river grabs your canoe.
Crossing the river wasn't something I needed to do. A bridge was just down the way—nice, safe, and easy. Still, I saw the gentle slope of the far bank, kissed by the afternoon sun, and felt this urge to get there myself. It was my own little challenge, a bit of a thing to do on an otherwise regular Saturday.
At first, I felt sure of myself. The water close to the bank was calm and forgiving. I got into a rhythm, dipping and pulling the paddle like I was born to do it. But as the bank got further away, the river changed. The friendly sound turned into a low, strong hum. The current, which I couldn't even see from the shore, now had a voice and a mind of its own. It pushed my canoe, trying to pull me downstream instead of across to where I wanted to go.
Out there in the middle, I felt totally alone. I was stuck between two places—the familiar shore I'd left and the unknown one I was heading for. Both seemed really far away. My arms started to ache, and I started to think, This is dumb. Just turn around. The bridge is right there.
But turning around in a current is tough to do. So, I stopped fighting the river and started working with it. I pointed the canoe upstream a bit, using the current to help me get across. It wasn't about strength anymore but more about figuring things out. I stopped thinking of the river as something in my way and started seeing it as a partner.
When the canoe finally crunched onto the gravel on the far bank, I felt this total sense of winning. Not like I had beaten nature, but like I had teamed up with it. I just sat there, catching my breath, and looked back at where I started. It looked the same, but it also looked different. I saw everything in a new way.
The trip itself was the lesson. The river showed me that the middle is always the hardest part—far from where you started, so you feel unsure, but not close enough to feel hopeful. The trick is not to just push ahead without thinking but to listen, adapt, and understand the forces all around you. We spend so much time looking for bridges, for the safe, easy ways to do things. But sometimes, the best way is to just go for it, get in the water, feel the current, and start paddling.
