Since the formation of Christianity, the ritual of baptism was embed into the core ceremonies an individual goes through. While they vary drastically from complete submergence to a few droplets on the face, the water cleanses their soul. With a pure soul, they may continue on their spiritual journey. While I am not a religious man, the power of water on my soul was apparent. A varsity swimmer, countless paddle trips with my Boy Scout troop, even playing in our flooded yard as a child, water encompassed who I was.
My natural infatuation with water lead to two certainties, my parents were going to have igh water bills and working as a lifeguard. After I landed my first lifeguard job, an unexpected slow transition was set into motion. During my first year at the pool, I was entertaining some of the kids. Diving to grab a toy, I swam back up to only be met by a horde of arms trying to prevent my much needed breath. Time slowed down as I felt every individual air sac crying for air. Finally breaking free, I beached myself like a whale on the pool deck.
With none of my co- workers aware of the situation that occurred, the reality of what had just unfolded had terrified me. As I returned home that night, the sounds of the shower running triggered my horrific memories of that day and sent me hysterically crying in the corner of my bathroom. Time passed and my mind had coped with event that unfolded. Secured back into my normal psyche, I was ready to regain myself. What my conscious was not ready for was another tragedy to destroy it again. Towards the end of my work shift on a balmy Wisconsin summer day, I received the word that my cousin had drowned.
A man that was a high school football star, adventurer, and my role model had left us. From the outside, most people would have been perplexed on why he drowned. An athletic build and a pretty good brain between his ears, the look test would reveal no signs to what lead to his demise. From his infant years, he had diagnosed with Type I Diabetes. For years, we watched him constantly prick his finger to check his blood sugar. Then, the disease, we all had feared my take his life someday, struck with a seizure, that caused him to sink like a rock to the bottom of the lake that night.
My brain was trying to sort through all the emotions I was having. It eventually settled onto sadness, which salty tears pouring onto my t-shirt. Taking a moment to wipe my eyes, I stared up into the sky. The clouds became a projection of myself as they blackened, unleashing tears and cries of their own. As the we weathered the downpour that ensued, I felt my entirety be washed away. The entire ego I had developed in high school, varsity swimmer, Eagle Scout, all was swept away. Heading into my first year of college, I spent trying to discover the remains of the person I use to be.
For the entire first year, I isolated myself. Leaving my room only for class and food, I slept during the day so I could enjoy the loneliness that night brought. Still on the odyssey for the fragments of my ego, l committed to transferring to another college. While working on my application, I received a phone call from one of my cousins. He enthusiastically told me his new position as an aquatic counselor at the Boy Scout Camp we went to every other summer. Excited on returning to our old stomping grounds, he devised a reunion float on the Wolf River for our friends.
Busy trying to complete paperwork and still recuperating from my atred of water, half heartedly agreed to go, thinking the plans would end up falling through. The plans did not though, and I was shoved into the back of a truck and heading north. The only motive I had from jumping out and walking back home was the stash of beer that was accompanying us on the adventure. Celebrating our successful drive, we spent the night slamming some room temperature Rolling Rocks and reminiscing on our crushes from high school.
As morning dawned, we pulled our hungover bodies off the couches, put some breakfast and OJ in our gut, and went to our izing for our playboats. After the fine tune adjustments and swapping of gear, our brigade of playboats slid down the steep hill down to the training pond. Having been one of the two people that had been whitewater kayaking before, I got thrusted into helping my cousin teach our crash course on how not to die. Several wet exits and T rescues later, we deem the squad ready to good enough to hit the river. Kayak in the eddy, I slowly spread my spray skirt around the lip of the boat.
With each inch of the spray skirt that slipped into place, my heart began beating faster and faster. Swarming my brain were the worst case scenarios that could happen. Heading my head on a rock underwater, sweeping into a strainer, getting caught in a hydraulic, drowning. Suddenly, my conscious was slapped into reality by my cousin yelling for me to go first. Hesitantly, I drip my paddle into the water and thrust myself out of the eddy. The current of the river grabbed the front of my boat and began pulling me down stream. Gaining speed, my eyes became fixed on the waves of the rapids crashing as they tried retreating to their origin.
Panic set into my body. With no safety boat at the bottom, the worst case scenarios started to become too real. Hitting the first wave, the crisp water from the first rapid pummeled me in the face. With every square inch of my exposed body covered, this oddly calming sensation overtook my body. The river pushing me out of my water cocoon, which catalyzed a metamorphic change in my spirit. The worries of my impending watery doom vanished from my body. The hatred I had of the substance engulfing me for stealing my cousin from our family was washed away. Instead, the joy I had from playing n puddles as a child emerged back.
This happiness that had been suppressed for years was finally released. As the current pushed my focus back to reality, my interpretation of this situation that I came into with so much fear, had now been changed. The obstacles that I had seen as ways I could die was now a fun physical and mental game, similar to a maze, Interpreting the layout, figuring out the proper sequences of moves and timing, planning backup plans, making backup backup plans. My brain was firing on all cylinders. With each wave that I hit, my excitement increased exponentially. And after pulling into the last eddy, I felt that I could do anything.
Unfortunately, the sun had began to sink behind the treeline and forcing us off the river. As we peeled off our spray skirts, I was shedding off the fear I had of water. With each equipment I took off, the more I wanted to put it back on. After the kayaks were all loaded up, I unwillingly took a seat in the truck. My eyes glued to the window as the river vanished slowly from my vision. As each second passed, my heart longed more to feel that rush of water again. While I layed on a bed that night, my mind craved to be on the iver, to the point it made my senses feel as I was still there.
As my body replayed that moment on a continuous loop, I had an epiphany. This sensation was not a new one. I had this same feeling before. It was when I was canoeing in the Boundary Waters. It was when I finished a race in swim. It was when I played in the puddles as a child. This love I had for water had not vanished. It was just waiting for the opportunity to revived. With that first splash that hit me on the river, this sensation had its chance, and it capitalized to the fullest. The passion for water had come back to me and guided e out of the darkness.
Looking back, this trip changed me and probably saved me from myself. It took me back to my roots and cleansed me. As I stated at the beginning of the story, l am by no means a religious man. But, water drives our existence. It keeps us alive. It moves us. It is us. With so much power, it can destroy everything around us. However, water can also bring life. Similar to a plant’s need for water to grow, water allows us to grow or even be reborn in it. So instead of complaining the next time it rains, let the water help your awareness grow and be baptized by it.