Greg Mans: My “Kayoo”

WHITEHALL, MI —

May 26, 2024

Entry 2:

Pleased to hear you're back on the trail, Zach. Getting back off a couch or bed is perhaps the hardest part of the game. Or, as Peter Markus might call it, getting back on the river.

How we really miss the river when we are away from the river.

My Kayoo.

Since I've been hurt, sometimes I remember some of my past times, and that works to call me along a little bit. But lately, I am inspired by watching and listening of the outside world.

I imagine your footsteps. One after another. Poles clanking. Eyes open, mind everywhere and present — just right-like.

I imagine the taste of water after extreme thirst, feeling rest when tired, or the satisfaction of trying and going for something myself.

I awoke this morning looking up at the ceiling as I begin each morning, gathering breath and waiting for some Saint to tend to me as they might an old dog or toddler child. Usually, my mind races going nowhere.

For me, some fine person will come and do what it takes to keep me here, putting me in a sling and hoisting me with a small crane to transport me to my chair and lower me in. Someone will spoon muesli topped with last year’s blueberries from the freezer and gently deliver this goodness to my mouth.

And, despite limitations, it's all here for me, too. Thirst, longing, trial, and love. My life can be seen just like everyone else's. I just have to look past a few things and look to what I can reach. And, sometimes, the Beauty is in what lies beyond my touch.

And this is the practice. This is the dance.

I watch bare feet on sand and bodies entering cool water under hot sun. Fly rods in the hands of beautiful young fishers, gently lifting and slinging number 16 elkhair caddis as the river runs noisy against legs and waders. People on bicycles. Gardeners making growth. I watch couples dancing and holding and laughing, happy to be in eachother's arms during these brief moments between the long steps. This is my Kayoo…

It's truly a privilege and beautiful to witness, but it doesn't stop me from getting hungry to touch and taste again.

Each morning, we wake and let a smile cross our face. "It's Showtime," as Michael Douglas would say during his performance in that crazy film from the 80s about his choreograph of a risqué dance.

We wake and take hold of what we can, trying to make a moment meaningful and good, faking it and going through the motions if we must until something takes and slings us through the day like a smooth wave might in the south Pacific.

That those who can – do – fantastic. To watch others, feeds me. We can witness the hummingbird take nectar from these flowers, and this can keep us going.

We try ourselves, hearing of your steps and keeping going as we can. Trusting. Loving. Trying.

Thanks for this. Keep at it. Much love.

- Greg