A Soul's Journey

The Shenandoah Post Card View © 2010

Abstract

Our August 29, 2010 journey was a perfect summer scene: river revelers gathered on the West Virginia side of the Shenandoah River awaiting our 2 pm ride to the launch point, and the subsequent lazy ride down that mystical ribbon of water. The tranquility of the river upstream was soon punctuated and littered with humanity of all ages slunk-down into an array of tubes that represented many colors of the rainbow.  It all ended roughly two hours later.

Facilitators

River and Trails Outfitters did a great job of providing a gathering site, complete with shady parking, food trailer (selling “grass-fed” burgers and tiny bags of chips), picnic tables, changing tent and sparkling porta-potties.

The Tao of Tubing

The Shenandoah–for her part–ran deep and slow, and swift and shallow.  The shallow portions provided a view of the aquatic inhabitants, exposed craggy rocks–and where not exposed–underwater obstructions that snagged unaware tubers by their bottom sides.

Kicking, paddling with arms, and other flailing attempts to dislodge one’s arse from moss-covered rocks frequently proved fruitless.  Standing on mossy rocks to free oneself from outcroppings both hidden and visible was occasionally met with an unplanned plunge.

The water was delightfully tepid to quite warm in places, and the surface provided a breeding ground for horny dragonflies (some of whom would alight upon passing tubers, so enraptured were they in their insectoid mating rituals to care not a wit anyhow).

All Trees. © 2010 Digimarked. Please email for permissions.

The nearly cloudless sky provided plenty of sun (and shade, too, for those of us who hugged the West Virginia banks).  Hugging those banks resulted in no small number of tube-snagging zones where the water was oftentimes one inch or less in depth. No mud in the Shenandoah, just sheets of water-smoothed lava flows and assorted boulders from who knows where.

“Allowing” whether Taoist, Buddhist, or otherwise, is no easy task when one is part of a larger group, such as I was at the time.  I did have some intriguing moments when I surrendered the worldly cares and just enjoyed the dappled sunlight through the sycamores.  The slow spinning of a careless tube upon a field of dragonflies makes no waves at all. Our minds (with thoughts more numerous than the population of our winged friends on that meandering tributary) enjoys its moments both slow and deep and fast and shallow.  The pause is a reward and a challenge. Then it’s back to the world, fresh from our baptism: wide-eyed and hopeful.