Messing About in Boats





“There is nothing – absolutely nothing – half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.” ~ Kenneth Grahame, THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

For as long as I can remember, I have loved just about anything to do with boats and the sea. Neither the size of the boat nor the immensity of the body of water makes any difference really. When I’m on a boat, the effect on me is nearly always the same. The grind of everyday life is left ashore and I know in my soul that I am where I was meant to be.



 A sailboat is best of all, I think. I’m an inveterate dreamer and a sailboat shouts the quixotic spirit, evoking vicarious passages to atoll-ringed South Sea islands and other exotic ports-of-call. It takes merely an afternoon at the helm of a small sloop on an inland lake to set my imagination working like this.

The wistfulness is only part of it, though. There is also a Zen-like aspect – that moment when you sense the perfect synchronization of the boat, the waves, and the wind. You feel it as you steer. And you know you, too, are a part of that harmony.

A Glimpse of Satori in the Great Smoky Mountains

View from Chimney Tops

"My father considered a walk among the mountains as the equivalent of churchgoing." ~ Aldous Huxley


Nature whispers to us.

If, for example, you’ve ever stood beneath a behemoth sequoia in the Muir forest, or marveled at the vastness of the Grand Canyon, or gazed in awe at the countless stars on a clear night uninterrupted by ambient light, you’ve likely heard these whispers. You understand how they still our minds, erase our vanities, and remind us of our infinite Oneness with the Universe.

Sometimes these whispers meld reality and myth, too, as I discovered several years ago while day-hiking with my wife and two young sons in the Great Smoky Mountains.

We were hiking Chimney Tops, a popular trail that winds for two miles through old growth forest and rhododendron, crosses a couple of mountain streams, and steeply rises 1,300 feet from the trailhead to the summit. The second half of the trail is ungraded, less crowded with hikers, and requires a scramble across rocks to reach its top point. The view from the pinnacle, however, is well worth the extra effort.

While my family waited below the final rocky section of the trail, I continued to a flat boulder slightly short of the summit – a perfect perch for meditating upon the expansive view across the smoky, blue-veiled valley. I remember being struck by the profound silence there. Though a half-dozen or so other hikers had ascended to the top, it was as if the panorama before us demanded a reverential silence. A pious feeling like that you get when you walk into a great cathedral, no matter what your religious beliefs.

Then, from that silence, the sweet haunting sounds of a Pan flute began drifting across the valley. The music seemed to carry on the air currents: dipping into the forests one moment, swirling among the rocky pinnacle the next, soaring finally to the surrounding peaks. Time no longer existed. The satyr Pan piped somewhere within the pristine forest of eastern hemlocks. And, though I was firmly grounded to the mountain physically, I felt the lightness of drifting with that music through the majestic smoky vista before me. I felt the lightness of my being.

Descending the trail, joined again by my family, I encountered no satyrs – only a solitary hiker, resting on a trailside overlook, and blowing the soundtrack for my glimpse of satori on his bamboo pipes.

Whispers of Satori Redux

OK, time to get back to this after nearly a year’s hiatus. Appropriately, I suppose, in my last post here – way back on September 11th, 2010 – I offered John Lennon’s oft-quoted musing, “Life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.” Let that suffice – along with some personal things going on, a bit of laziness, and a period of creative sterility over the past year – as the reason for my time away from this blog. So, moving forward again now…

I’ll first go back to the initial post I made here, Listening to Our ‘Whispers’ – the one that best explains why I decided to publish this blog. And then I’ll fast-forward to the present with a new “whisper of satori” every couple of weeks. This time, I promise, I’ll make it work.

“None of us will ever accomplish anything excellent or commanding except when he listens to this whisper which is heard by him alone.” ~ Emerson

I’ve spent more years (decades) than I care to remember seeking inner satisfaction from ‘things’ and ambition, only to discover that their value, in the end, is insignificant or even non-existent. What has stayed with me, though, are simple moments of experience that were unadulterated by expectation or hoopla. I’m convinced the grandeur of our existence is revealed when we pause long enough to reflect on those experiences that whoosh by unexamined as we speed towards our desires. What follows are the 'whispers' I've listened to in hope they might encourage you to examine your own glimpses of satori in turn.