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A Morning for Mist and Mystics

Recently I paddled with a dozen friends. We paddled in honor of a dear friend, John 'Hoppy' Hopkins. John had a joyous and expansive spirit, who had died too soon at age 59. Lost to a rare form of cancer.


So it was, that we gathered by the waters edge to remember our friend. To honor his memory and to find meaning in the company of one another. The evening before our paddle, the weather forecast was uncertain with a chance of heavy rain and thunderstorms. I checked in with my friend, Tom... 'Do you think we should cancel?' After a moments thought he said, 'yes'...(pause) 'but I know what John would say'..."Go for it!" So we did.



Lake Cochichewick, MA


The morning dawned overcast....the summer air heavy with moisture...mist shrouding the hills within which the lake rested. The water was calm. No sign of thunder. We pushed off. Our paddle by design, was to be meditative, accompanied by quiet.


To be quiet in our plugged in, over stimulated society is truly counter-cultural. Yet, we knew instinctively, that we needed to slow down, to be attentive to what we were feeling...to acknowledge our grief and yes, our gratitude to have had John as a friend.


Together we moved slowly and mindfully along the lake. Aware that there is something powerful about being in the company of others, while silent. Monastics know this to be trure. That even in the absence of words, perhaps because of the absence, there is a heightened awareness of sights, sounds and smells. An awareness of our collective energy. An openness, dare we say to a presence, a force, greater than oneself.


Mid paddle, Tom called to me, 'Kent, look up!' An eagle soard over us, no more than 30' above. Close enough to marvel at the enormous wing span, distinct pattern of feathers and piercing eyes. The moment while brief felt intimate.


Thomas Keating, the Trappist monk and mystic offered: 'The Creators first language is silence.' True. John Muir, the environmental prophet said: 'Into the wild I go to lose my mind and find my soul'. Yes.



Weir Hill


On our morning paddle, we created space to lose our mind and find our soul. A metaphor for that place within, which unites us with wisdom that is both cosmic and close. Do you believe this to be true? Ever have a moment when you knew that there was more going on than meets the eye? Moments when you can't keep from whispering 'wow' or 'glory'?


Such is the way of the mystic. And I believe, that there is that of the mystic in you too. On the water, paddling slowly together, our vision limited by heavy mist, yet paradoxically, our hearts, minds and imagination expansive. As the mist drew close the possibilities grew bigger. Imagine.


At the end of our paddle, we drew our boats together as a floating pod. We marveled at what we had seen and felt. Several mentioned that John felt close.



Our pod

In Celtic spirituality there is the notion of a 'thin place'...a permeable membrane that separates the conscious life (of lists, dreams and schemes) from the world of the spirit...a place of the heart reminding us that there is more to life, than we can measure, quantify or prove. A realization that we belong, are known, cherished. An awareness both subjective and real.


To all open to the possibility that you too may have a mystic within, I offer an invitation: Be quiet. Be open. Be prepared to be blessed.


Paddle well.


With you on the journey ~ Kent Harrop



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