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The River

I am a thinker. I a student.

Sometimes a writer, sometimes disciplined.

I am constantly working life’s river.

For me, life is best understood through metaphors.

Life is a river.

As I navigate the river, I’m trying to find the best line.

Maybe the safest line? If I see a drop or line that looks fun, and I think I can make it,

I’ll take it.

I’ll also look for my next eddy, my next safe spot.

Maybe the next place I can get out altogether?

Sometimes I roll.

Feet up, ass smashing into rocks

Bloody knuckles

Countless attempts to self-arrest.

Surrender.

Fight.

Recovery.

Questioning why I chose this sport?

Freezing cold, uncomfortable.

Sometimes I roll on purpose.

I practice recovery.

I practice the best way to recover. So that maybe when I need it most I can execute it and

Save myself.

When I look at life as a river there is something comforting. We know the river may have rapids, we know the river may have still floating moments, with hot springs and sandy beaches.

The river is full of beauty.

Colorful fish. Boulders that can only be seen through its passage.

Forced to face the challenges the river throws at times,

Nowhere to go but forward.


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