What I like about going down to the lake is that I can be immersed in all of the elements at once. I can feel my energy going straight down into the earth, who knows how deep; I can feel it stretching on the wind as far as I can imagine, feel the pull of the water wrapping me up, and on special days, the lightning sears the sky and sings to my nerve endings about the beginning of time.
I feel like we are all connected through these energies, through these elements and through time. I have this idea that the energy is sort of physical, and finite and that when you travel by a means that is not under your own power, your energy can’t keep up, can’t stretch that far. I think of the drain of jet-lag versus the stimulation of canoeing, or cycling.
I feel as if you and I are connected, secretly, underground by that earthy energy, the way the quaking aspen trees in Utah are connected (are actually one living organism), and not so secretly, through the air, by our thoughts. And smiles. And what on earth do we call the energy that travels from your eyes to mine? Science and sci-fi suggest that I can give you positive energy and that you can give it back, and that this is the ultimate win-win.
And yet, sometimes we don’t. Sometimes we take take take and maybe that’s why I like to go to the lake alone. Sometimes we need to go back to our roots and revel in the energy from the earth and wind and fire and water.
Or maybe it’s not about being alone, maybe it’s about reconnecting with the whole.