days go by
The one-armed man walks into a flower shop and says:
What flower expresses days go by
and they just keep going by endlessly pulling you into the future,
days go by endlessly pulling you into the future.
And the florist says; white lily”.
I was thinking about how it would be the first time I lift a camera on beach just west of San Juan and look to the others to say something. What would they say? “Off we go”, “Here we are on day 1″. . ?? Whatever they say it will probobly seem like an understatement and a bit silly. Adventure Kayak magazine sent out an email yesterday saying they would be doing a short bit on upcoming expeditions and needed some photos. I couldn’t help but feel that was about as “surreal” as kayaking can get. Well, good thing Wendy is used to it.
Kayaking as I mentioned before is, at least here, a way of life. Not just something you do on the weekends. I can’t really say how it became that way. Time goes by and you find you can’t remember the changes, you only notice you’re now not quite living the same life you were before the changes happened. My rational mind suggests that paddling is just a past-time, a hobby with no grand value in the world. . and yet my reality is always immersed in the boats, the paddles, conversations, the destinations and plans for the future all being pushed forward with the flow of the tide. Kayaking, right at this moment. . . is life. And at this moment, it feels. . . right.
Behind the scenes in the next day or so there will be a lot of organizing going on. Boats being moved, displays set up. Bags will be packed, cars running to airports, junk tossed in hotel rooms, Last minute warm ups of slide shows on laptops, a million conversations with people you haven’t seen in forever, and I’m sure a bit of nervous anticipation. Heck, I’m feeling it and I don’t have to do anything! I think it must be because I remember when it was so far off. In anticipation nothing is real. The future is fantasy until it’s here, then it slips by in a moment.
I’m sure summer will be like that. All the events big and small will come and go. Anticipation, experiences and endings will fly by all too quickly and suddenly I’ll be writing again of long cold winters. But maybe I’ll have a few new stories to tell.