Monday, March 30, 2009

टेस्ट ऑफ़ टाइम.

For those of us who would love to just get in a kayak and keep on paddling, having to take time away from the water is quite the sacrifice.

I am so thankful that I am able to not only draw upon my memories, but able to use the other side of the brain called longing or dreaming of yet another day on the water.

Now that I am literally in the desert, the opposite of the sea, God has graced me with some of the most beautiful experiences that most could only imagine, let alone having been privileged to experience.

Today I am far away from my beautiful home on the south west coast of Newfoundland and Labrador, but awake each morning at 04:50 in a war-torn Iraqi desert.

I thank God that he gave me opportunities not only to kayak, but the capacity to go back in the crevices of my mind and draw upon the experiences of the coast, to keep me afloat.

When I say afloat, I mean not to quit when the storms of life are the rule and not the exception.

I have heard it said that when opportunity knocks, one ought to open the door and have a peek.

Like kayaking, once you have left the safety of the dock, you are at the mercy of the elements, and once you have entered the war zone it is similar to that of the chop off the rock, and the only rock face one can cling to is a hundred fathoms to the deep, and a thousand feet into the sky.

For those of us who like nothing more than to be at one with nature, following the next wind, or tide, always draws us closer to the creator.

For me it isn't enough to just be comfortable, but to find comfort on the edge.

For years I missed my island home of Ramea and after 28 years I was able to return.

So once again I was able to recapture the smell of the sea and the taste of salt water on my lips.

After a couple of years of being at play with the lord on the coast, it was time to once again go through the door that had opened.

This door had lead into a large room called the Middle East and all that it entails. I made a little dough, spent a lot of dough, and within two years find myself smack bang in the middle of it again.

This time rather than working with the Iraqi men, I am now privileged to be working with Kenyans , Indians, Nigerians, Filipinos, Africans, Bosnians, Americans and even the Hondurans.

Like the days that I choose to go out in the shop, only to be blessed by the new experience, this new experience, working with such a diverse group of people causes me to let go and let God more than I've ever done in the past.

The sound of the Hawk is overshadowed by turbo powered aircraft, and the fishing loons are just a memory.

Today saw a military sharp shooter with a bag of freshly killed pigeons. When asked why he was doing such, his reply was it keeps them from being sucked up in the Jet engines.

Why is it that we find it necessary to kill everything that God has created in order to have safe passage?

At times I long for a place where man has not yet been, and then my memory and my mind would not have to question Why.

Memories from

Dorim's wharf, with a few

Whispers from the sands.