Wednesday, December 26, 2012

“Deep Water Passage”

The Mouth of the Huron River emptying into Lake Superior


“When we deliberately leave the safety of the shore of our lives, we surrender to a mystery beyond our intent.” Ann Linnea, Deep Water Passage.


Christmas is a low-key affair at my home. With just the two of us, the cats and Mr. Wendell, the day centers on eating and watching television. But I did use the day to finish a book I had started to read last week. During this time of the year I often pine for the community where I grew up and this book, Deep Water Passage, fills that void of homesickness. Written by Ann Linnea, it is an autobiography of her kayaking trip around Lake Superior. In celebration of her 43rd birthday, Linnea used the trip as a pilgrimage into her psyche, using the power of nature and solitude to answer the nagging questions she had about her life.

I am drawn into her story as she faces the dangers of traversing the “She Who is the Biggest”. Having grown up near Superior, I understand the magical power of this large, cold body of water for it calls me whenever I feel disconnected from the world. But I have also experienced her fury; the huge waves that take even the largest ships on the Great Lakes and batter them deep into her bowels. Superior is not to be played with or treated with contempt.

Travelling clockwise from Duluth, Linnea writes of places she visits along the way. When she finally leaves Canadian waters to the Michigan side at Whitefish Point, I feel a sense of home. Her westward voyage along the southern shore of the lake talks of places I have visited often and I can see in my mind’s eye what she saw. I know the land, the people and it is comforting.

My most profound insights come when I am surrounded by nature. Removed from the noise of daily life, I am confronted with only myself. I cannot escape the big questions churning in my mind, fighting the inner conflict between my public persona and who I really am. No conflict exists when I’m on the trail or staying in an isolated cabin. In nature I know who I am.

Ann Linnea’s journey created a profound change in her life, a change that most of us push aside until it is too late. I don’t want to be one of those people who on their deathbed regret how they live their life. Do you?

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