Canoe

The summer I turned 15 years old, I earned my canoeing merit badge at scout camp. Our last activity was not part of the requirements. The leaders planned a fun competition for the obnoxious teenage boys. I wonder if some of the “games” where kids are sent off somewhere are entirely for the leaders to get a break.

Our objective was to canoe a little over a mile to Hell’s Gate. Once we got to the Gate, we had to capsize and re-enter our canoes. Then, we could paddle the mile back to camp. We were supposed to be paired off, but our class had odd students—both in personality and numerically. My buddy and I took on the challenge of the extra weight/scout.

We were not the fastest to arrive at Hell’s Gate, but on our way out knew we needed a plan for capsizing the boat. We’d never practiced with three people, so it would be extra challenging. The game plan paid off. We capsized, boarded our boat again, and took off faster than anyone. We beat the other crews by several minutes.

The three of us bonded over that time in the water. It was hard work, and it changed us. We used the extra oar and third body to our advantage. When rowing a canoe, or boat, the oar pushes into the heavy water. Oars use the water to propel the boat forward.

Sometimes I find myself fighting against an immoveable object. Instead, I can use it to propel myself forward. I may not need to change the water, but work with the water to change me.

Can I acknowledge that my oars aren’t about moving the water? Will I use the water to move me, allow the water to change me? Will I let the obstacle be the way?

Be curious, be kind, be whole, do good things.