So there I was, gingerly grabbing what looked like an old kayak out from under a pine tree, paranoid about accidentally treading on any poison ivy leaves hiding beneath dead brush or hiding amid a kayak full of spider webs and dust.
I hate poison ivy. What's more, it hates me.
When I get even the tiniest patch it spreads like wildfire on my skin, popping up anywhere it senses an achilles heel of weakness on my skin. And I have no self-control when it comes to scratching, scars be damned. I shouldn't complain though. My son gets it worse than I do.
When he was twelve, his teacher got a brainchild to take students outside to pick leaves in the bush behind the school and he got poison ivy so bad, it deformed his skin (temporarily). There was nowhere on his body it didn't spread to - except you know... there.
The only way to describe his condition to others was to refer to him as the Elephant Man after the disease by the same name, made famous by John Merrick and forever represented in a 1980 movie by David Lynch.
It was heartbreaking and lasted three full weeks. Thankfully it didn't leave any scars. At least not visibile ones...
Mine wasn't that bad. Nevertheless, I didn't want those little bastard leaves anywhere near me.
So, it took me the better part of an hour to determine which of the two overturned kayaks on the property held the least likelihood of harboring poison ivy and went after that one.
Once I dragged it to the dock and scared away all the spiders and bugs with a broom, I dropped it in the water, climbed in carefully in and headed out onto the lake without a life jacket.
Not too bright as I hadn't told a soul what I was doing or where I was going but then again, the lake was a manageable size and I figured if I tipped over, I could always kick my way back to shore, dragging the kayak behind me.
Now it was just me, the water, and GOD.
Time for a little spiritual test.
Have you ever wanted a sign that God was listening? That he was watching all of your struggles with interest and concern and that he was waiting until the timing was just right before he intervened with your greatest good in mind?
Okay. Maybe not.
How about that's he just around?
Somewhere.
Anywhere.
Doing... something.
Preferrably something for someone's greater good.
Anybody's.
Yeah, 'cause that's where I was when it came to God. It's not that I didn't think he was around. I just figured I hadn't warranted his attention yet. I simply thought He had better things to attend to besides me.
So I put it to Him...
As I glided along I said, "Okay, if you really are around, in this sacred place - supposedly - (no offence or anything, but you did make us creatures who want proof) - give me a real sign. I know I know. You sent me a hawk in the yard - that was cool, thanks for that - then that hummingbird - which was truly beautiful, then that annoying little butterfly trying to capture my attention by hanging around my nose but you know, God, what I really want is to see an E ----"
and suddenly, there it was...
An American Bald Eagle.
I glided beneath it, staring up at it, stunned at how incredibly majestic it was. To witness its presence in person, in the wild was unspeakably humbling... I blubbered the rest of my sentence ...see an Eagle... cuz then... I'll.... wow.... holy crap...
You're listening.
There he was sitting motionless atop a pine tree that was growing through the cracks of the Canadian Shield.
Holy shit. You're really listening.
For the first time in a long time, there was no doubt in my mind.
I must have circled beneath that eagle for an hour, trying to absorb the significance of my encounter, and the spiritual message it held for me.
I was eagle obsessed.
I only moved on when for a brief moment, it acknowledged my annoying presence by tilting its head down just enough to make eye contact. At that point, I only hoped I didn't look like dinner as I had no intention of getting close and personal with those talons or that beak, no matter how gorgeous he was.
The rest of my day was spent in contemplation of that eagle encounter. Later on in the afternoon, my AP and I each took a kayak and made our way down the lake. My Bald eagle was still there. Motionless.
For now, I felt he was mine in some sort of cosmic way.
Once again, I circled beneath - this time, I waved at him. He looked down at me, adjusted his wing and gave me the illusion that he had just. waved. back.
I KID YOU NOT.
The next day was even more holy.
I never saw my eagle again, but my time at Still Rock can only be described as transformational.
Sometimes, you need a sacred space in which to see the world as it really is, outside of this paradigm we know as our day to day life.
Sometimes, you need friends who are on the path, that can help you transform your world from one of limited possibilities to endless ones.
Sometimes, even just a couple of days - well spent with conscious awareness - can have the most profound effect on someone...if they are open and choose to embrace a new way of being.
I returned home to the chaos that was my life but I felt emotionally strong, capable of handling anything with the grace of someone who has been blessed and touched by spirit and offered a new perspective, even a new beginning...
Life would never be the same...
