We embarked on a canoe trip down the Whanganui River about 2 weeks ago. It was a transformative experience, and articulating what the river has gifted me and what I’ve learned about myself is challenging, but I will try my best. While it was sunny the first day, it was rainy for the next two. Ash informed us it might take a day or so for our minds to break free from the confines of the concrete jungle where we spend much of our time.
On my first day on the river, I struggled with that. I still felt so confined, and my mind was so wrapped up in worries outside in the concrete world. My brain is a chaotic place to be, pretty much in every aspect of my life, but especially in terms of my identity. I’ve never felt like I fit anywhere and I’ve always felt like I’ve been grabbing things in the air as they float by and shoving them into a little box that I could officially call the identity of Joe. As we drifted and paddled down the Whanganui River, I felt my mind, a room of chaos being mirrored by brief, turbulent rapids we would occasionally encounter. Yet beneath these rapids, the river beckoned. Beckoned me into the flow, beckoned my mind to rest.
On the second day, my mind had let go of its attachments out in the busy world, and I could feel the cool embrace between my paddle and the water. Swoosh. Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, swoosh. We paddled past towering cliffs on either side, surrounded by a veil of mist and draped in ferns and mosses, quietly watching us as we paddled further. The cliffs seemed to guard the secrets of the ages, of the expansive history this river has seen, and I wondered if the river and its wisdom could teach me the mysteries of my own identity.
On the river's reflective banks, I saw shapes of fish, arrows, giraffes, and dragons. But I didn’t just see the contours of the land, but the contours of my evolving identity reflected back at me by the mirrored waters. The river taught me to surrender to its flow, and in doing so, I would learn to find my way. I realized that chaos, too, had its own particular beauty. I learned I had been resisting chaos, but the river taught me to navigate it gracefully and flow into the unpredictable currents that will lead me to where I want to be. Where I want to be is so far from who I am right now, but I know I will eventually get there. While that can cause turmoil, it is also important for me to acknowledge how far I’ve come and who I am in the present.
There's also a sense of reciprocity with the Whanganui River. You must be willing to give something to receive something in return. I offered the river my attention and my observation. As many of you know, I’m a pretty prolific photographer. While I use my camera to observe the world around me, I think it sometimes limits the attention I can give nature and the flow between a person and a landscape entity much more powerful and older than myself. I left my camera behind me as a remnant of the concrete world I came from, and felt incredible to give nature that much attention. I truly felt like one with the river, absorbed in its waters, flow, and history. I had never felt so free. Free of expectation, free of judgment, free of guilt. The feeling of freeness the river gave me made me think about finding the source of water I’m most connected to back home (probably the ocean) and finding that same sense of freedom I felt on the Whanganui and giving that body of water my full attention as I begin to bond with it.
Approaching Pipiriki in the pouring rain on our last day, where we would exit the river, I felt a deep sadness in my chest as the cliffs flattened out and turned to more farmland and as signs of the world I had come from crept back onto the banks of the Whanganui. Paddling this river was one of the most incredible gifts and experiences I have ever had. In three days, I learned more about myself and my relationship with nature than in the past five years. Thank you Te Awa Whanganui. I will be back. I promise.
Kō au te Āwa, kō te Āwa kō au (I am the river, and the river is me).