My River: My Mistress, Teacher, Guru
by Graham Campbell
A wonderful, amazing experience occurred. I fell in love with my truest soul mate, not a woman, but a river. As we came to know each other in intimate detail, she became the true love of my life. This is a form of ecstasy I had never known but continues to illuminate my heart and soul. It was initially so tender I did not tell anyone about its depths. Close friends and family knew I liked hiking along her shores, but I kept the secret depths to myself. I thought others would think I had finally gone over the edge, and truthfully, I wondered if I had. Feeling the need to be there at dawn every Sunday morning was weird enough. I wasn’t telling anyone more than that.
Sundays, precisely at dawn, she and I met for our date for over three years. I did not care what the weather brought. Snow, rain, sleet, stifling temperatures, it didn’t matter. I wanted to be there in it all. Sometimes either one of us had messed hair, needed a shower, dressed inappropriately or could be a frigid and bit crabby. I wanted to know my lover in all her conditions. Over a three-year period, I walked every inch of her 7.9 miles. Often along the shore and at other times I waded down the middle of her flowing water. At first, I was shy, being very careful not to overflow the edges of my knee-high Wellington style boots purchased especially for these explorations. Then one morning, she quietly whispered in my ear, “Graham, if you get wet you will neither, rust not melt.” She invited me to take one step deeper into her flow. This was only the first of many lessons in who I am, who we both are and where our true home really is found.
I listened to her, switched to shoes I wore in my canoe which were better on shore and on really hot, humid mornings having water swirl around my feet, calves and knees was very refreshing.
The poet Mary Oliver, who I consider the embodiment of the Divine Feminine, throughout her career went out into the natural world every morning to “notice,” and “pay attention.” And that is exactly what I was on my river to do. I was fascinated with every nook and cranny, sound, current, deep pool, waterfall, rock, leaf, and tree. I was not trying to get away from it all so I could let of stress. It was the opposite. I was there to get into it all. I was there to BE there, to be present too everything I noticed.
In the entire length of the river this was the only place I chose not to enter. I left this little cave to its insects, snakes, rats, mice, skunks, and other beings who might call its darkness home. Even soul mates have their secrets, places where boundaries are not open. This is a place for her not me. Private places are part of what makes us who we are.
Falling in love with this particular river was easy since she had been part of my life for over sixty-five years. My father took me to this exact spot teaching me to fish. That was bonding at its best. I was not very athletic. I could play some baseball but was average at best. But I had something no other kid in the neighborhood had, a father who took me fishing. He brought me right here many times when I was nine years old. nothing else has been in my life that long.
When I came to this river in my adult life, long after he died, I often sat on these rocks watching the currents, listening to the sounds. Following a leaf with my eyes as it floated down stream. I learned there is no single sound to a river. In any place there is a full café of conversations going on at every table. The initial hiss of sound when it is breathed with, paused over, evolves into a deep throated dripping in one table, rapid swoosh as water flows through the next. In another spot there is a beautiful Chelo and string section with a smooth melody as the river flows gently. As I sit in silence, I discover a symphony orchestra right there.
A hundred yards down river there is a shallow place where it is more like a fife and drum marching band. Rat-a-tat drum and high-pitched fife calling out for everyone to rise up, prepare to ride with Paul Revere, the British are coming.
A hurricane blew through the area one Wednesday causing a great deal of havoc. By the time I get there on Sunday my sweet, gentle river was still turbulent. For the first time it was mostly white water rampaging through. There would be no wading on this day. But there was a place I found a large boulder I could crawl on to very carefully. Taking several minutes to settle into a place on the top with my feet securely in two dents in the rock surface I sensed I could trust where I was perched, I began to meditate very aware and respectful of the river’s power and depth. My eyes floated closed, I began simply breathing in deeply and out slowly. Letting go of concerns and anything other than the breath. After about fifteen minutes my eyes gradually floated open. There was a branch of leaves right in front of my face, seemingly perfectly placed for me to see.
Of course, the leaves were there when I closed my eyes, but I was not fully there. Meditation brought me into the exact moment with these leaves. Perfectly there perfectly seen. Nothing else existed as the leaves allowed me to view and step into them, merge with them, be a part of them. Just me and the leaves in all their magnificent beauty.
Breathing the moment in, my eyes again closed. I was breathing in with deep gratitude for this time. But the river was not done with me yet. In her great wisdom she was giving more. I began to sense the river flowing through me, not just near me but THROUGH me. Flowing around my feet, knees, and legs was a common very pleasant sensation which by now I’d had many times. This was different, deeper. The river was flowing through me. From the ends of my hair to the tips of my toes every sensory receptor lit up. She again whispered to me, as had become common, “It’s ok. Stay right here with this.” No fear, no separation, just river. actually, no Graham other than as receiver. Soft, fast, cleansing water flowing through washing resistance away.
The river graced me with her spectacular self. For a brief moment the illusion of separateness dissolved. I experienced connection. I experienced what the Buddhists call “no-self.” There was no me. There was no river. There was just us woven into a tapestry that embraced, rocked, cradled, and even cuddled me.
My river, my mistress, my teacher was now my guru, all rolled into one. She was lovingly taking me where I’d never been deeper into the cosmos. And while the experience was brief, I still know that the door remains open, slightly a jar. Having entered this space once I know it is still available. I have chosen more than once to knock while mediating and entered. But fortunately, I had the guru river to take me there first.
Normal personality boundaries are absolutely necessary living in the world. It required a lot of therapy to build adequate ones which are important to me. The Zen Master Teacher, Sunryu Suzuki was asked by a student “How much ego do we need?” To which he responded, “Enough to not walk in front of a bus.” Yes, the buses in life are very capable of running us over if we are not watchful. But there are also those of us who need to be able to let go and experience more. Step not in front of a bus but more deeply into the cosmos.
These experiences cannot be demanded, required, forced, or regimented. The only preparation is dedicated, faithful meditation. Walking the spiritual path which opens the heart one step at a time. I needed to start by going fishing on this river as a child. I had no idea this was also the early steps on the path of my lifetime. I learned to listen to my soul and soulmate as they called me to deeper places.
In this I have seen now that one of the side effects of loving my river is that this spreads though other aspects of my life. Being fully present to all of life can even make mowing the lawn enjoyable. An often, unrecognized impact of these altered states is that they enliven the rest of life. Things now appear slightly differently with a different tint, and richer colors. Not so much Photo-shopped as Mystic-shopped with deeper wider seeing and experiencing. With a sense that there is always more available here in the river, where the doors to the outer cosmos and especially the inner universe are now always opened.
Sundays, precisely at dawn, she and I met for our date for over three years. I did not care what the weather brought. Snow, rain, sleet, stifling temperatures, it didn’t matter. I wanted to be there in it all. Sometimes either one of us had messed hair, needed a shower, dressed inappropriately or could be a frigid and bit crabby. I wanted to know my lover in all her conditions. Over a three-year period, I walked every inch of her 7.9 miles. Often along the shore and at other times I waded down the middle of her flowing water. At first, I was shy, being very careful not to overflow the edges of my knee-high Wellington style boots purchased especially for these explorations. Then one morning, she quietly whispered in my ear, “Graham, if you get wet you will neither, rust not melt.” She invited me to take one step deeper into her flow. This was only the first of many lessons in who I am, who we both are and where our true home really is found.
I listened to her, switched to shoes I wore in my canoe which were better on shore and on really hot, humid mornings having water swirl around my feet, calves and knees was very refreshing.
The poet Mary Oliver, who I consider the embodiment of the Divine Feminine, throughout her career went out into the natural world every morning to “notice,” and “pay attention.” And that is exactly what I was on my river to do. I was fascinated with every nook and cranny, sound, current, deep pool, waterfall, rock, leaf, and tree. I was not trying to get away from it all so I could let of stress. It was the opposite. I was there to get into it all. I was there to BE there, to be present too everything I noticed.
In the entire length of the river this was the only place I chose not to enter. I left this little cave to its insects, snakes, rats, mice, skunks, and other beings who might call its darkness home. Even soul mates have their secrets, places where boundaries are not open. This is a place for her not me. Private places are part of what makes us who we are.
Falling in love with this particular river was easy since she had been part of my life for over sixty-five years. My father took me to this exact spot teaching me to fish. That was bonding at its best. I was not very athletic. I could play some baseball but was average at best. But I had something no other kid in the neighborhood had, a father who took me fishing. He brought me right here many times when I was nine years old. nothing else has been in my life that long.
When I came to this river in my adult life, long after he died, I often sat on these rocks watching the currents, listening to the sounds. Following a leaf with my eyes as it floated down stream. I learned there is no single sound to a river. In any place there is a full café of conversations going on at every table. The initial hiss of sound when it is breathed with, paused over, evolves into a deep throated dripping in one table, rapid swoosh as water flows through the next. In another spot there is a beautiful Chelo and string section with a smooth melody as the river flows gently. As I sit in silence, I discover a symphony orchestra right there.
A hundred yards down river there is a shallow place where it is more like a fife and drum marching band. Rat-a-tat drum and high-pitched fife calling out for everyone to rise up, prepare to ride with Paul Revere, the British are coming.
A hurricane blew through the area one Wednesday causing a great deal of havoc. By the time I get there on Sunday my sweet, gentle river was still turbulent. For the first time it was mostly white water rampaging through. There would be no wading on this day. But there was a place I found a large boulder I could crawl on to very carefully. Taking several minutes to settle into a place on the top with my feet securely in two dents in the rock surface I sensed I could trust where I was perched, I began to meditate very aware and respectful of the river’s power and depth. My eyes floated closed, I began simply breathing in deeply and out slowly. Letting go of concerns and anything other than the breath. After about fifteen minutes my eyes gradually floated open. There was a branch of leaves right in front of my face, seemingly perfectly placed for me to see.
Of course, the leaves were there when I closed my eyes, but I was not fully there. Meditation brought me into the exact moment with these leaves. Perfectly there perfectly seen. Nothing else existed as the leaves allowed me to view and step into them, merge with them, be a part of them. Just me and the leaves in all their magnificent beauty.
Breathing the moment in, my eyes again closed. I was breathing in with deep gratitude for this time. But the river was not done with me yet. In her great wisdom she was giving more. I began to sense the river flowing through me, not just near me but THROUGH me. Flowing around my feet, knees, and legs was a common very pleasant sensation which by now I’d had many times. This was different, deeper. The river was flowing through me. From the ends of my hair to the tips of my toes every sensory receptor lit up. She again whispered to me, as had become common, “It’s ok. Stay right here with this.” No fear, no separation, just river. actually, no Graham other than as receiver. Soft, fast, cleansing water flowing through washing resistance away.
The river graced me with her spectacular self. For a brief moment the illusion of separateness dissolved. I experienced connection. I experienced what the Buddhists call “no-self.” There was no me. There was no river. There was just us woven into a tapestry that embraced, rocked, cradled, and even cuddled me.
My river, my mistress, my teacher was now my guru, all rolled into one. She was lovingly taking me where I’d never been deeper into the cosmos. And while the experience was brief, I still know that the door remains open, slightly a jar. Having entered this space once I know it is still available. I have chosen more than once to knock while mediating and entered. But fortunately, I had the guru river to take me there first.
Normal personality boundaries are absolutely necessary living in the world. It required a lot of therapy to build adequate ones which are important to me. The Zen Master Teacher, Sunryu Suzuki was asked by a student “How much ego do we need?” To which he responded, “Enough to not walk in front of a bus.” Yes, the buses in life are very capable of running us over if we are not watchful. But there are also those of us who need to be able to let go and experience more. Step not in front of a bus but more deeply into the cosmos.
These experiences cannot be demanded, required, forced, or regimented. The only preparation is dedicated, faithful meditation. Walking the spiritual path which opens the heart one step at a time. I needed to start by going fishing on this river as a child. I had no idea this was also the early steps on the path of my lifetime. I learned to listen to my soul and soulmate as they called me to deeper places.
In this I have seen now that one of the side effects of loving my river is that this spreads though other aspects of my life. Being fully present to all of life can even make mowing the lawn enjoyable. An often, unrecognized impact of these altered states is that they enliven the rest of life. Things now appear slightly differently with a different tint, and richer colors. Not so much Photo-shopped as Mystic-shopped with deeper wider seeing and experiencing. With a sense that there is always more available here in the river, where the doors to the outer cosmos and especially the inner universe are now always opened.