Rowing away — so tempting. To just disappear from it all and leave everything behind. But for all the rowing away from life, I would still be rowing towards something else.
I’ve heard from countless people over the last few years that it is time to “move on” with my life. That if only I did “this” or “that”, went “here” or “there” then I could move beyond the Great A, B and C. Unfortunately. my life isn’t necessarily that simple. I can move away from From all I want, I would still be moving towards to To that would be a problem. How does a person know that what comes from behind won’t follow?
Life doesn’t simply Move On. It trails behind the canoe with every stroke of the oar. It ripples in the water, first with the sudden rush of a paddle and then with gentle glides and reflective waves. It is left behind to collect dancing dust mites and catch birds or pine needles, but it’s there, behind.
And perhaps that is what moving on really is. It isn’t about leaving it to sink beneath the boat; it’s about not turning back to watch it drift behind me, lazily catching my wake. As I move away from it it seems smaller than it did when I was holding it in my hands. It falls behind growing smaller. In the distance it slows itself while I row towards something greater still. Or not.
Towards isn’t necessarily greater; it’s only different than Away. But Away is always better than Still There.