Postcards From the Lake: Lakeside Meditating

The other day was the kind that almost doesn't seem real, it was so perfect. Warm, quite warm, but not hot and not at all humid. There was no breeze, so the lake was as calm as glass and the sky that perfect shade of blue. Everything within view was reflected in that water. Even the ripples you see below weren't there at that moment -- it was that smooth. 

The neighbors were elsewhere and being a weekday, the lake was quiet, sound broken only by the occasional fishing boat or gently putting pontoon. It looked just like this, except it was daytime, not sunset!

 

I decided to go for a swim before the neighbor's return. They have family up -- teens. Nice, but active, out in the water a lot, having fun tubing and just enjoying the summer. Laughing, playful. Just as it should be.  I love to watch them -- it reminds me of summers when my cousins and I were at the lake, sometimes with friends from home.

 

But it is harder to go for a power swim when there's a crowd. And with a lake so smooth, it was the perfect time to do so. So, off I went, doing the first really long swim of the summer, slicing through the water, slowly if not gracefully. I am built for endurance, not speed! I swam around the point to see what the new neighbors had done to my favorite cottage, once owned by best-neighbor-Jim. They appear to have built a wing that looks like a dormitory or the backside of a hotel. (below, then and now with the addition.)

I digress. When I hit our shore on the return, I grabbed my little raft and took a float, kicking out beyond the neighbor's boat ramp, and just lay back, checking out my surroundings.

 

It was a moment of total peace, total contentment, total perfection. 

I searched the sky and the trees on the shore, checking for Eddie the Eagle, to no avail. I looked rather smugly at the tidy beach, knowing full well that those weeds will be back in a few days.

 

Sometimes I regret that my camera is not waterproof! But there wouldn't be a lens wide enough to capture the mirror-like image of the cottages on the beach reflected in the water or the trees with reflections so tall they seemed to stretch half across the lake. They didn't. But it sure felt that way. 

And as I lay on this unmoving raft, I "thought." 

~~~~~~ 

"Don't underestimate the value of Doing Nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering."

A.A. Milne, "Pooh's Little Instruction Book" 

~~~~~ 

The sounds you can't hear. Yes, I listened to them all. The sounds of our laughter as we too played on the beach, four teens and sometimes friends too, traveling from porch to waterfront as we played cards and games on the porch, then jumped in the lake!

 

The sounds of the boat as we spent hours on the water, skiing until we were either out of gas or it was time for dinner.

 

The plop of a fishing lure on the water as my dad dropped his line -- and often came out with an impressive catch. 

 

A giant hose, splashing water on a screen made of hardware cloth as we tried (to no avail) to find my cousin's diamond ring, which had slipped off my finger when I reached into the water to toss her the ski rope. (That was a bad day!)

 

Just talking, laughing. Sharing life's plans and dreams.  Being young with a world open beyond measure.

 

The discussions of our grands as they built sand castles. 

 

The lapping of the waves on the windier days. And the sounds of the geese, ducks and crows on the water (and the beach!)

 

Nicole (Huisvleit) wrote in the comments on the last post, "I found it so interesting how you're slowly starting to feel calm and peaceful when you're there and I was wondering: is that the effect of the environment? Of is it the idea of having vacation? And could you get the same sense of calm at your 'regular' home, you think?"

When I retired, people would often say to me, "Isn't every day a vacation?" No. (When you retire, you'll realize that!) There are always things to do -- a house to clean, an appointment to go to, a task to do. And at home, I feel very guilty when I don't do things I should be doing. Slacker! 

At the lake there are fewer obligations and little guilt. Yes, keep the house tidy and all, but the cottage is much smaller than the house at home. That's about it when it comes to responsibility. There is no schedule. So it does feel like a vacation. And yes, the environment is a big factor. 

Even when there are no voices, there is sound at the lake. Waves lapping, breeze in trees, power boats and fishing boats, neighbor noise, the dreaded "noise boys" -- the hired lawn services who tend the yards on the right and left of me. (My own "noise boy" has a quieter mower and no leaf blower -- and it is only mowed when it needs it -- not once a week, whether you need it or not!)

 

Cottage noise is a different noise. With the exception of the noise boys, most are sounds of nature or of people having fun. They are good sounds. Sounds I find calming -- perhaps, in part, because they are the sounds of my youth. 

 

As I wrote last time, I sometimes ponder how productive I am when I am at the lake. (And many of you told me I was more productive than I thought. I thank you for that!) But David (Travels with Birds) brought up an interesting point. He said "Productivity is what you want it to be. Sometimes just sitting and chatting is the most productive time of all."

 

And, sometimes, it is just floating on a raft, on a perfect day or watching memories happen right in front of you.

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