Life Lessons From A Kayak: The Bermuda Triangle by Nina Bingham

I took a friend kayaking today. She is a "take it slow and see what happens" kind of person. I have always been the "leap now and look later" type. We both paddled our hearts out...she just prefers to stick close to the shore, while I chased passing boats like a dog chasing a stick. Catching them isn't the point of it; it's the thrill of skittering across the water as fast as I can that makes me feel somehow more...alive. We decided to cross turbulent waters where the Columbia and Willamette rivers intersect, so we could take in the majestic scenery of  snow-capped Mount Hood. I call this tangle of water  "The Bermuda Triangle," because it can at any time catch you in it's cross-current, taking your kayak for an unexpected spin that you didn't see coming. Although it's not really dangerous (we've traversed it many times), each time it makes my heart race a little, not knowing exactly what to expect.

I was thinking how life can be like that Bermuda Triangle. Sometimes, although we may be trying as hard as we can to maneuver calmly and in a straight line towards our goals, we can get caught unexpectedly in what seems like rough and adverse conditions-a rip tide of tricky terrain. Someone throws a "monkey-wrench" into our well-laid plans, and we find ourselves "paddling like the dickens" to keep our head above water. You know the old saying, "If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans?" Life is kind of like that. One day you're cruising along, and the next day you've got a flat tire. Or you're caught in a swirl of confusing and even frightening circumstances, irregardless of how well you planned.

One thing I noticed about my friend and I is that was while she tried to avoid the "Bermuda Triangle" by hugging tightly to the shore, my dog-fetching instincts were shouting, "Go for it!" My reasoning was: we're both going to hit this cross-current; she can't avoid it, and neither can I, so why not risk a little, and face it square on. The curious thing was that while I crossed in 15 seconds, it took her 5 minutes of huffing and puffing and calling out in fright before she got across. She tried taking a wide angle around the turbulence, and it caught her boat indirectly;then  she had to endure it far longer than I did. The other thing I noticed is that I felt an exhilaration and confidence for having pushed myself to face my fear, even if it was mostly imagined.

Today's life lesson from a kayak: We can try to avoid risk, but by doing so, we may be denying ourselves the thrill of adventure, and more importantly, the experience of feeling fully alive. There is a splash of danger in any new territory. The dichotomy of risk is that we may traverse it successfully, or get dumped in the water...but unless we are willing to head into choppy waters, we'll never really know what we are capable of.