Over the past few weeks the lake has brought us hordes of ducks, geese (we’ll get into my beef with the geese later), loons (my favorite), and even a pair of bald eagles. Despite all this bustling nature, it is a supremely calm place.
The water laps against the rocks, bird calls echo off the pines, the wind blows gently. And I can just sit. Be a part of the landscape rather than an actor upon it. Right now I’m watching an osprey fish.
Staring at water has great contemplative value – whether it’s the ocean, lake, river or stream. I’ve always found calm in water. Maybe it was the constant rain growing up in Oregon, but I really don’t feel at home without lots of water nearby.
I also spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ beach house in Lincoln City, Oregon. Chasing waves, discovering glass fishing floats from Japan, poking in tidal pools and being overwhelmed by the power of the Pacific.
My grandfather used to have to chase me along the shore line, hollering for me to come back, into shallower water. I’ve always pushed the limit. I’ve always been drawn to the deep.
“…an incantation at the edge of uncertainty.”
~ Catherine Keller, Face of the Deep