Text: Southwest Florida Water Management District, The Peace River: A Trip through Native Florida
I never thought a canoe trip down the Peace River could be so alluring, its tranquility and yet... how full of life.
Reading the passage made me think of so many things, of still waters draped by overhanging canopy of leaves, branches, and pieces of the sky. Is it like what Christopher Marlow felt when traveling down into the heart of darkness? Perhaps... but perhaps not. Even more so than nearing the destination, I'd relish the traveling and wading itself, every space of fresh air and water. Knowing Fort Meade behind me and the Charlotte Harbor yonder, I can rest assured that I am sandwiched between two "civilized" places and allowed a moment's reprieve from their realities into the reality that is nature surrounding the canoe immediately, at this moment. For the time being.
Perhaps I am romanticizing this a bit. I do get carried away when my imagination roams from the launching point of good writing. Here's a passage I really like from the text:
Maybe, one can find solitude in the company of another, is that possible? Is it possible that the solitude may feel double-fold? As if one solitary soul communing with another solitary soul, and what passes among the two in the natural elements--can it be the mysterious "spirit" similar to the one which comprises the Holy Trinity? Is that what they call Peace? In the curves of a dove, that hovers.
I never thought a canoe trip down the Peace River could be so alluring, its tranquility and yet... how full of life.
Reading the passage made me think of so many things, of still waters draped by overhanging canopy of leaves, branches, and pieces of the sky. Is it like what Christopher Marlow felt when traveling down into the heart of darkness? Perhaps... but perhaps not. Even more so than nearing the destination, I'd relish the traveling and wading itself, every space of fresh air and water. Knowing Fort Meade behind me and the Charlotte Harbor yonder, I can rest assured that I am sandwiched between two "civilized" places and allowed a moment's reprieve from their realities into the reality that is nature surrounding the canoe immediately, at this moment. For the time being.
Perhaps I am romanticizing this a bit. I do get carried away when my imagination roams from the launching point of good writing. Here's a passage I really like from the text:
"...if you’re seeking a little solitude and a spiritual connection with the river and the wilderness through which it runs, you might try an overnighter, like the trip from Zolfo Springs to Gardner."The thought of "solitude and spiritual connection with the river and the wilderness" sounds extremely appealing, and yet... also incredibly far away. Strangely, lately, as I've looked out of Mira Lago alone, or sat on the grass surrounding Lake Bonny alone, there's a vague presence/absence at my back, in the dark of the shadow that I cannot see. I don't think it's loneliness, which gnaws at the bone marrow; or is it loneliness only in another form--of misty, elusive embrace.... In my dream, of canoe-ing down the Peace River, I somehow cannot imagine being truly "alone."
Maybe, one can find solitude in the company of another, is that possible? Is it possible that the solitude may feel double-fold? As if one solitary soul communing with another solitary soul, and what passes among the two in the natural elements--can it be the mysterious "spirit" similar to the one which comprises the Holy Trinity? Is that what they call Peace? In the curves of a dove, that hovers.
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