A Harbor in the Tempest

The land laid a gentle arm around his shoulder, the smell of autumn leaves and damp glacial rock cleared his head and the running creek soothed his raw, trodden upon and tortured heart.

Jimmy grew up in an alcoholic haze that surrounded his parents.  Most memories of childhood were banished into a caustic vortex.  Except for a few.  Time spent with his uncle, trips to grandma's and picnics in the park. 

Jimmy's uncle died, his grandma died and after the age of thirteen he never again picnicked in the park with his parents.  But he never quit going to the park.  He took his dog there, his girlfriends there, his wife there, his motorcycles there, his cars there, his girls there, played softball there, golfed there, drank and hiked there. 

The trails were Jimmy's brothers, the fields his sisters and the hills his parents.  The park was his family.  The park was also home to Jimmy's best friend, The Creek.  Over the eons, the Creek cut a gorge, flanked by the remnants of ice age glaciers, into the land.  American settlers came to the area in the late 1700's.  In the 1800's, they built feed mills by the Creek's waterfalls and a village near the land's highest point.

Although Jimmy eventually escaped from the monsters of his past, their tentacles still had a hold on him into his twenties.  They would thrash and beat his body, opening his mind to deal with a time since forgotten.  In the darkest moments however, the Creek was there for him.  It begged for him to sit upon a boulder, to deeply breathe in the air and open his heart.

And Jimmy did open his heart.  When he had to give up his dog, when he had to get divorced, when his grandfather died and when his friend died.  When the world weighed heavy upon his shoulders, when he needed her the most, the Creek was there, the Creek listened.  With each return visit, he learned more about himself, he learned to process the harsh realities of life and he learned to let go.

Looking back over the years, Jimmy realized that the Creek was a reflection of his inner soul.  And that by confiding and trusting in her, he allowed himself to help himself. 

The Creek provided lighter moments as well...

Once, one of Jimmy's daughters won a bag full of goldfish at the carnival.   Not wanting to keep the fish, Jimmy suggested that they flush the fish down the toilet.  He reasoned to his daughter that the fish would eventually make it out of the sewer system to the Lake.  She didn't buy it and was more than concerned for their safety.  Jimmy then asked if it'd be okay to release them into the Creek.  She agreed.  By this point the fish had taken up a few hours of his time, but he invested just a bit more and drove the fish to the Creek.  He spent a few more minutes looking for just the right release point.  He then set the fish free...only to have everyone of them eaten by bigger fish within thirty seconds.

Special thanks to Paul Hewson, Dave Evans and their friends for this essay's title.

Comments

[David Zinger]

Dave:

I appreciated the park and creek and the twist at the end, all that glitters is not gold --- especially if you are a goldfish eaten up by bigger fish.

It reminds me of the line that a man can spend a lot of his life sitting by a creek fishing failing to realize it was never the fish he was after and if he is not careful the big one that got away was himself.

Thanks,

David

[Rosa Say]

I always think of Sense of Place as a powerful instinct and kind of emotional intelligence, and I really appreciated this essay Dave, mahalo.

In all of my jobs I have been blessed with the outdoor beauty of resorts in Hawaii, and it was a regular practice for me to take my employees to special places regularly for our staff meetings. The conversations would always take surprising and more intimate turns and we got to the heart of emotional matters quickly; they were not at all distracting as some naysayers would suppose them to be.

This is something I still suggest to those I coach, to find a place at work that gives them respite. It saddens me when I see that some green spaces, few and far between in downtown concrete jungles, end up being used as the place for designated smoke breaks instead - yuck!

[Steve Sherlock]

Yes, place is important. Context for content. We are in many ways, as you acknowledge Rosa, defined by our sense of place.

In the mentor program I am with at work, we do encourage the pairs (mentors and mentees) to get out of the office, some where else, even if it is a coffee shop, it is not work. One successful pair arrange to run together. Clearly a good match and not an "average" example, but place needs to be different for the conversation to flow.

In many ways, the success here, of this Joyful Jubilant Learning group, is dependent upon the sense of openness, respect, sharing and welcoming. If it were otherwise, we would not learn so well or so much! Nor would so many come, linger and participate.

Honk! Honk! for taking us to a good place!

[dave]

David - guess all that glitters really isn't gold :-)

Thanks Rosa. I believe that a sense of place weaves in and out of many here at JJLN.

I agree Steve! Very true words.

[tim]

I felt sad for Jimmy as I read this story. Everyone dies and leaves...even the goldfish.

Perhaps I felt this way because there are places, symbols, and items that carry the memories of past hurtful situations. I tend to avoid them rather than embrace them or return to them.

Maybe I need a creek in my life...or a good therapist!

[dave]

I do hear you Tim. I think in my own situation I have a few of those.

For Jimmy, I tried to portray the Creek as a place to purge, to let go.