Life is Like the Lazy River
Life is Like the Lazy River
Editor: When everything seems to be crashing around you, maybe all you need is a few days on the Lazy River.
By Karen Tate
I felt like I was holding on by a thread after my husband’s heart attack. I found myself a caretaker while working a full-time job, dealing with our out-of-touch employer, editing my new manuscript for my publisher, keeping my radio show on the air and trying to pay the bills – then the opportunity to spend a couple days floating on the Lazy River at a resort in Las Vegas presented itself.
Yes, it was in the hottest part of summer in Las Vegas, but anything was better than being in the office where I could not shake off my boss’ demoralizing words. I thought our performance for the last thirty years in his employ buffered us from the angst and vulnerability so many workers were feeling these days, but no. His reply to my query if my husband could expect sick leave during this health crisis kept echoing in my ears. “I don’t want to pay Roy for sitting home on the couch!” (I didn’t yet know about disability.) It took all my strength to refrain from hoping in his next life he came back as a fruit fly, a migrant worker picking strawberries or the guy who cleans out port-o-potties.
So we packed up the car and headed for Las Vegas and the Lazy River. Days of floating in quiet contemplation was just what I needed to recharge my batteries and have a moment to think about something besides stents, pills, and doctors and how overwhelmed I was feeling.
At first, the Lazy River just allowed, allowed, allowed me to be, with no pressure. I could drift with no place to go but round and round, softly, gently, and quietly. Even the kids sharing the Lazy River were not a source of aggravation. It was peaceful and my brain could click off for a few hours.
As the hours turned into days, I began to feel like myself again and before I knew it the creative juices were flowing and this Lazy River became a source of inspiration.
Sometimes we can just float along in life, easily avoiding the chaos all around us, without having to put forth much effort to avoid turbulence. We see others around us going under but somehow we’ve managed to catch the current that just steadily pulls us along out of harm’s way. We may be lucky enough to continue like that for a bit, but sooner or later we’re going to brush up against the rocks. We might even find ourselves feeling water-boarded as we are unable to avoid getting sucked beneath rapids and struggle to the surface gasping for air. If we’re lucky, in the next few times around the bend, we might be able to catch our breath. We feel lucky to maneuver ourselves away from the crushing weight of the waterfalls, large and small, we see along the journey.
As we go round and round, with each turn of the wheel, we learn to adapt. We discern how to place ourselves so that we float along in the most stable position possible. We stretch and strengthen our muscles to avoid the rocks and rapids. We keep an eye on the horizon so we might manage to make our way around log jams. We wear protective covering to ward off direct hits we might not avoid along the way. Sometimes if we look for them, gifts will present themselves during the journey, and it is so important to be ready to embrace those moments in gratitude.
Sometimes that Sacred Travel Story is nothing more than a short jaunt to a hotel outside Las Vegas where you can get off the hamster wheel, disconnect from the mundane world for a bit, breathe, and listen to that voice within. We have all the answers inside ourselves. We just have to slow down, cut out the distractions and tap into that inner voice. It may sound cliché but its true.
**Remember to look for and grab the joy that exists between the rain drops!**
Despicable and Disgusting:
