Floating on the river of time

Last night we were awakened just before midnight by a loud grinding and roaring noise outside our window. ("And from the lagoon, there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter!")

Peering out the window into the starlit but moonless night, I could see that someone -- I hesitate to use the phrase "some drunken idiot", but it does lurk below the surface of my brain -- had attempted to enter the lagoon as the tide was going out -- in the dark, with no lights -- and, when the inevitable happened he (and it was definitely a he, I could hear the voices; I believe he may have been accompanied by a she) assumed that by gunning the motor loudly (digging it deeper into the sand) he could somehow extricate himself from his plight.

After listening to several rounds of motor gunning I finally gave up and called 911, but they never sent anyone and eventually the tide subsided enough so that even in the dark I could see the light sand being exposed around the boat and hear their footsteps as they climbed reluctantly out and trudged home.

Sadly, it took me until 4 am to get back to sleep, and by all rights this morning I should be out of sorts. I am aware, however, that I have the opportunity to choose how I respond to my lack of sleep, and, seeing the boat this morning, anchored and drifting quietly in the lagoon as if the tension and noise of last night had never happened, I choose to follow its example and let the frustrations and challenges of the night before be released, to float gently on the surface of today.

So it was amusing this morning, flipping through Elizabeth Lesser's The Seeker's Guide, which is the next book my spirituality group will read together, to find this passage:

"The secret in life is enjoying the passage of time: Instead of clutching on to the past or fearing the future, experiment with letting go into the mystery of life. Float on the river of time, curious about its direction, open to its changing nature. You don't really know where it's going, so why not relax and experience the ride!"

It's a new day, and I have a big exhibit to pull together for hanging tomorrow, a house to tidy up, and an appointment with my spiritual director. I think I'll just relax into it, do what I can, rest when I can, and keep floating.

And now I see that the boat's owner -- whom I do not recognize -- has kayaked over to the boat to usher it home. All's well that ends well!