Boats and Arrows

Boats and Arrows by Mother Ren - Navigating the Grand Union Canal for the first time steering a narrow boat for Chris and I. Based on a picture taken by Bridget from Inland Navigators.

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which

you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make

them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living

arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,

and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go

swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also

the bow that is stable.

Khakis Gibran, ‘On Children’ from The Prophet (Knopf, 1923), discovered by fate in the Manual of the Warrior of Light by Paulo Coelho.

Hello my vagabonds,

Do I have the perfect first adventure tale since we parted. Chris took me out for the day navigating the Grand Union Canal on a narrow boat! Chris was incredible. Dare I say, he was like a duck to water? Look I wouldn’t be a Mother if I didn’t bring out the bad jokes from time to time. He is a real natural and I loved watching him, it was so graceful with him at the helm. However, it went exactly how you would think a day out on the waters would go with me though. . . it was far from smooth sailing.

It started off well, me being cocky, looking at the tiller saying to myself, “how hard can it be to just swing it the opposite direction you want to go?”. I am quite backwards myself, so it might come naturally. When everything was calm that absolutely was the case. Until I saw any other boat, or vessel, or bridge, or really anything that might indicate a human was nearby.

Then my brain went in to overthinking mode and all of a sudden right was right and left was left and we had run aground on a shallow part of the river whilst trying to avoid another narrow boat also going at around 1.5mph. The bow lifted whilst the stern dipped, it looked like a budget remake of Titanic. We got the barge pole out to try and dislodge ourselves from the clay like silt at the shallow bottoms of the churning waters created by our struggling propeller. Chris and I were laughing and giggling as we tried to figure out what to do and whether we would actually even get the boat back in time for them to not think we had sailed (snailed, I should really say) off in to the sunset.

So, we sent up the flares (a phone call to a wrong number at first) to Tim and Bridget the owners of Jessop to come to our rescue and, boy, did they? I think you know the answer to that, they were heroes. We were in no way distressed, the whole thing had us in stitches to the point it hurt, but Bridget was so reassuring of our predicament and even told us to put the kettle on, chill out and they would be there in 15 minutes.

In that time, Chris and I were also offered a tow by a lovely couple that had just picked up their very own first narrow boat and, that was also their first time learning how to navigate using a tiller. In fact the whole day people had been friendly and helpful. Something we had been sorely lacking in our lives for so long, I know, my vagabonds, but truly they exist, and the world is full of them. I was wrong.

It didn’t even feel like 15 minutes had passed before Tim and Bridget came sprinting across the path with a rope and a hell of a lot of spirit. At the beginning, during the induction, Tim had told us to never walk out on the sides of the boat, for any reason, whatsoever. He was very, perfectly clear on that point. So, as he said to me, “Remember what I said earlier about what absolutely not to do . . .” I knew it would have to be me with my tinier trotters that would have to. Chris’ size 11s had saved him. I readied myself, preparing myself for a dip in the Grand Union, when Tim showed mercy on me and used incredible strength and accuracy to throw the end of the rope across the river to where we were royally stuck.

All Chris and I really did was secure the rope, which was harder to do than you think when you are crying with laughter. Tim and Bridget were magnificent, they made a counter pulley system using a tree, one keeping the tension whilst the other jumped on the rope forcing the boat to jolt and wiggle out of its sticky, sludgy trap. A few big jumps and all of a sudden the boat jolts back to its original position in the water. I cannot describe how impressive their strength was as we watched them pull us, boat and all, along side of the path they were standing on. Tim boarded and told us we had actually practically made it to the end before we would have had to turn around. So, he kindly offered to show us how it was done should we want to try it for ourselves some time when we had recovered from our debacle. Then he disembarked and we set sail again.

The piece I have drawn here is based on a picture Bridget had taken as we passed under a bridge just after they had saved us. Shortly after that Chris took over as Captain, and he got us in to port (back to the moorings) with just a couple minutes to spare. That man is phenomenal! He’s the friend you want in a crisis, always travel with a Chris.

But, let me tell you, the smile that had long been absent became so wide (think the Cheshire Cat) that my entire face ached and I could barely see. Not because I don’t miss you, oh, I miss you terribly; but, because I was failing spectacularly at something new. And, what does FAIL stand for?

First Attempt In Learning!

And, boy, did I learn that day. I learnt that I had spent a lot of wasted time repeating the same successes and failures throughout my life. That I really only learn through new experiences and when life runs you aground you can trust in yourself and others to get you back on the water moving forward. Do not be afraid to FAIL, be afraid of not trying.

I have been sent signs lately, like the poem at the top. I know you are well and on your path. It may seem unsteady and scary at first, but I know from all the times we shared and watching you grow that you are laughing and smiling through every FAIL, because you know one day, you will succeed. No matter where the river of life takes you.

And, one day, maybe once more, our rivers will meet in the beautiful blue sea of eternity. I love you to the moon and back, forever, and always.