Typically I’m pretty good at saying, “I don’t know.”  Seems like I say it a lot - I’ve had lots of practice.  Don’t get me wrong, I love having answers.  It makes me feel smart and important.

Lately, however, I have had fewer answers.  And, on top of that, many of the answers I would have previously given seem woefully inadequate to me.

So, I’ve found myself in a state of disequilibrium lately - unsure about some things.  I think this happens whenever something you think is true turns out to not be true.  The result can be confusion, disorientation, and a desperate search for a stable reality.

I had a similar feeling yesterday while floating down the Colorado River.

Last year, while watching some kayakers on the Colorado, I promised myself that I would learn how to paddle in white water.  A few weeks ago Larry, my brother (who has paddled more than me) planned his annual trip, and I saw an opportunity to combine brotherly fun with imminent danger.

Of course, my tendency is to run right up to where my ability ends, and then rush past it.  Most of the time the consequences are nominal -  I might have to rework a school assignment, try a little less cayenne pepper in the chili, or stick to the blue squares on the ski mountain.  This time my M.O. caused me to be upside down for the first time in a kayak, in the midst of a class 2 rapid, wrapped in a neoprene skirt, not exactly sure how a wet exit works, hoping I didn’t crunch my head on a river rock (I wore a helmet).

That’s when the disequilibrium set in.  When I made to the shore Larry asked me if I had any idea what caused the roll.

 

“Not a clue,” was my response.

As I said, lately I’ve been saying that a lot. 

One of the things I’ve learned about disequilibrium is this:  whether you’re under water, or questioning previous held realities, fear is not your friend.  It can be paralyzing.  It can even be life-threatening.  The best approach, I’ve decided, is to take a deep breath, and swim toward the light.