“The river flows”
Dateline: Why Now
I envy you.
You of the lakes.
You of the streams.
You of the surf.
I envy you.
Spent, inside the outside.
I thank you though, for the invite.
For letting me in, out there.
For your graciousness and patience.
With me. About me.
A stranger to you,
the stranger I have become,
“it flows to the sea”
I’m a windows kind of dude. Double pane.
My outside has always been, inside.
With the remote in hand, I saw you out there. I just didn’t want to join you.
I was content to see snippets of you on the “We’re here”¦You’re not,” cable channel.
My guess is, I’m as much a stranger to you, as you are to me, so I’m going to tell you a secret.
Those who buy shirts with epaulets just to shovel the driveway.
Those with dry cleaned wool plaid.
Just because we are not out there with you doesn’t mean we don’t want you out there.
Truth be told, we need you out there, to tell us, to show us, that out there, is, still there.
Would watch you wade, and I would wade too.
In my recliner.
I have always thought that knowing out there was out there, was good enough.
I was a between commercials outdoorsman.
And that was good enough. Just fine. All the sights, none of the mess.
then I went outside,
and met you,
took the outside, in,
and was starting to dig it.
Then came a moment that changed my life forever.
In a tiny boat, with a tiny outboard motor thing you steer by holding the handle.
I saw a miracle up in a tree. As I floated by on the Miramichi River.
Looking down at me.
I saw the entire outdoors, standing on a branch.
And when I realized what it was,
Tear up now thinking about it.
Because when I saw the Eagle, and he saw me, I knew that to be the invite,
from the universe,
to come on in.
Where Eagles live.
“wherever that river goes”
You don’t know what it is like to grow up with pigeons,
and then see an Eagle in a tree.
Have the shadow of an Eagle cross your face.
Watch the wings, block out the sun.
Hear the song of the Eagle, without the bars of the zoo.
I envy you who,
walk within the miracle.
And wade in the cold stream,
I thank you, for every cast you make.
For every wave you cross.
For the surf at your ankles.
But most of all, I thank you, for out there.
For letting me in.
And telling me your stories of sand and surf.
Logs and lakes.
Rivers and rocks.
And I only ask this,
With other between commercials outdoorsmen.
With the children of the couch,
and game controller.
Because our legacy has to be simply just this,
a child outside,
with a pole in hand,
who looks to the sky,
as the wings of an Eagle,
kiss their cheeks.
“that’s where I want to be.”
Ballad of Easy Rider