What's Next?

There is a life of carefree, day-to-day, do-as needed, be-there-now existence, where the beauty and wonder of the here-and-now supercedes the what-if, down-the-road future. This life, most often associated with the young, relates to a particularly adventurous aesthetic sense. It was typified in my own life by the river. The River. A unique lifestyle amidst our complicated modern world. So much of what people see, do, work towards, has very little to do with earth, water, fire. What is real? At the end of a river trip, people talk about going back to the “real” world. But what is more real than steering a boat downstream, through the laughing riffles, the meandering flat-water, the exhilarating rapids? It is all in the moment that matters. Sunlight catching on the peregrine’s wing as it swoops into view, colliding with cinnamon teal in a burst of feathers, scattering, cascading down, floating across the rivers currents, swirling through curlicue eddies. But the “real” world somehow evokes dress-clothes and briefcases, retirement plans and savings funds, and most of all, paperwork. Stacks and stacks of it, fine print and signature required. But I want to know, how is this more real than the sun shining on warm sand, feeling so good beneath bare feet? Cool breeze loosens the hair from my sweaty neck and I am alive!
I dallied with rivers, did some trips as a kid, floated with friends in college, helped out along the way, but did not take it on as a profession. Not right away. It was all for fun and I was bent on something more serious, but never sure just what. I studied about nature from textbooks and lecture halls, chemistry labs and kitchens, so curious, letting my interest lead my coursework, rather than some end-goal or career. So, it wasn’t too surprising, when I finally did graduate with my first Bachelors of Science that I decided to take a summer off and work on the river. I remember telling my brother, who was already a veteran river-rat that I would be working on the river, too. “Great” he said, “That’s going to be so fun! Congratulations on ruining your life.” Ruining my life? It didn’t sink in then. No, it took years of boating—the majesty of Grand Canyon, the intimacy of the Salt River, the verdant wonder of Idaho whitewater, the colorful hues of Utah, the desert canyons of New Mexico and Big Bend. I was often asked, what is your favorite river? This one.

The one I’m on. The present tense. It was all present tense back then. Moment-to-moment. Just enough thought to save enough money to make it through the few months slack time until those spring creeks started flowing again. Until that snowmelt brought to life in rich muddy torrents the rapids, the pools and holes and currents of my lusty passion. But now I have come to see, the river had not so much ruined my life, as spoiled me for life. After the river, the wonder, the adrenaline and awe, then what? How does anything else sound near as fun or exciting? Well, it’s not. So it became a matter of making a buck. Nine to five. Get through the day, earn enough money for that river vacation. Always another vacation, a road-trip, a new adventure.
Now, in my forties, mortality has a certain reality to it. But still. Does that mean we surrender all? If anything, the accumulation of years makes me want more from each moment. People pass, unexpectedly, at the drop of a hat, in the midst of a spring drive from Los Angeles to Tucson. Crash.
It’s over. In the midst of a career, the tenuous life force sucked out. Forever gone from planet earth. So, while I would like to take a “retirement” some day, I know that perhaps I won’t make it that long. And no security is real. That aesthetic sense is still the realist of all worlds to me, and I find something very disdainful about the capitalist, market system we are stuck with. There is no sense in it, no continuity with what I would call reality. It’s all about who can make the most money at whatever the cost. This is the reality I am supposed to live in, fraught with rules and constraints, most set in place to keep the rich getting richer, and the rest of us be damned. So I choose to be an artist. Not a sensible choice, to be sure, but a passionate one. To create a world of wonder and beauty that others can share and get a sense of who I am, and in so, discover a bit more of their own true selves. For me, the highlight in a day is seeing the early morning sunrays slanting through gnarled branches, reflecting in grassy dew, illuminating small black-tailed deer waking from their luxurious green beds. Or the sun hovering on ocean’s horizon, teetering on the brink of the grand Pacific, turning the water a million shades of metallic blues, grays, yellows, shiny, shimmering until the moment is passed, and what is left is only the waves’ rhythmic, eternal pounding. I am ruined because I have gained an extra sense of perception. Being attuned to earth, water, fire. Not letting the façade of civilization displace the reality of nature. The real world.

Lora Rasmussen