Labor Day weekend: anniversary time. I moved into my home in Alaska six years ago. I was married then. The rugged landscape brought courage into my life–a close and painful look at a 15+ year marriage, my work, my choices, my child who died.
Fast forward to 2013. I fished with my Dad on the Kenai River this morning, and yesterday. Asked him how he responds to questioning a purpose for life, living. A query, “What really matters?” Silence in the boat, raindrops, long sentences, wisdom shared back and forth. Penetrating looks at me, from behind his sunglasses. “I know Dad, I don’t ask easy questions.” His response, “Most people don’t ask.”
Home all afternoon, rain, a fire in the wood-stove, autumn comes. I’m purging, eliminating, cleaning, stirring memories, holding on, letting go. Jumping into the flow of letting go. Choosing life. Allowing. Like Nike–less the word just–I mostly prefer, “do it now,” even if at times now is a tsunami wave ride.
Central to all my meanderings, pondering, grief and faith, are salmon, and the river I love.
I finally fished last weekend with an old friend, this weekend with my Dad. Skipped fishing the King Salmon season in July #angst, was working during most of the Sockeye “Red” run #cranky, and now it’s Silver season, a time to be present #grateful. Salmon teach me to live, which is a story for a different rainy night.
My Über yum is wild salmon. Tonight, everything lands in peace, even as I continue to wrestle in my inner landscape, letting go, leaping, allowing. Sarah McLachlan plays on Pandora, “Cast me gently into morning…” Wild Salmon nourishes me. I’m grateful. Even without answers, into the unknown, I allow, trust.
Savor: What and who nourishes you?
Where do you experience significance, and your Über yum?