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The Fish Priest

Tallyho. Maybe you remember me, maybe you don't. Those of you who have been hanging out on this newsgroup for the last few years might. Anyway, my name's Ed, I'm a longhair from East Tennessee, and I paddle my ass off whenever I get the chance. But it doesn't stop there, and that's why I have to come back home and hack out this kind of thing. Hope it dredges up a few memories, or lights up a new one. Do a Yahoo! search for "The Battle Of The Swine King" if you have any questions. Happy hunting.

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I consider myself a deep-faith disciple of the mystico-karmonious balance and all that jazz, but every now and again I find myself wringing out a wail of cosmic befuddlement because there are forces at play on this level of reality that are beyond my ken.

Those forces are everywhere. You can even sense them humming around between the stars. I've spent a lot of time pondering the messages in the night sky, usually from a deck chair way off in the desert with a fair variety of brain-softening substances within easy reach, and such contemplation has convinced me that there are a lot of paddlers who are born star-crossed. Sadly, I think my friend Geoff might be one of them. Although I don't actually know what Geoff's sign is, I can't see how it could be anything other than Pisces...the Fish. I say this because Geoff is the Mark Spitz of paddling, which is somewhat of a foul honor. Geoff swims.

And swims, and swims, and swims. It shrinks me up like a cold day to think of it, you know? Right on down into the Raisinette zone, where no man should go. Geoff's simply suffering from this heinous roll-clot, and he can't seem to cough it up. Time after time I've watched him psyche himself up for a tight class III...he studies the line, runs the entry in a manly and rugged way, flips in the main hole or on a pushy wave, and swims out into an eddy or a pool underneath. He almost always comes up smiling, he never seems to lose gear, and he sits under the rapid and squints back up the line that mulched him, grimly smoking a cigarette as if in smoldering defiance of the bastard-gods who worked him over. He's got panache, and he's earned it.

Whatever force is keeping Geoff from rolling must be pretty buff. Geoff has paddled a decent amount of tricky whitewater, including little nowhere rivers in Maine, which is redundant, as well as bigger stuff in Western Massachusetts. He's been to Appalachian Mountain Club clinics. He has any number of helpful paddler-ace friends. He's got a pool in his backyard and he hits rolls just fine there. But get him in the squirrelly stuff, and the creepy music begins to play. I don't get it. He's a righteous dude, he's got good help, and he's had plenty of real-world practice. To put it nutly: it ain't like Geoff can't roll.

As I lie in my deck chair watching the universe streak by I ransack my brain for ways to help Geoff past this thing. And it occurs to me that this isn't just a Geoff thing...pretty much anyone who has ever been unexpectedly dumped underwater has confronted some basic truths, and the main one is essentially an unmerciful mindfulness. Stark, brutal, in-the-moment living. There is no distraction at a time like that, no worry about work or spouse or unpaid bills. Steely, focused, purposefulness dominates the mind, and you'd think that would be a boost to the rolling process, but when you de-construct the moment you realize that this kind of clarity actually the greatest distraction of them all. When you're obsessed with the idea of something, the very obsession can make the physical attainment impossible to accomplish. Just ask anyone who eats Viagra.

"Viagra for the Soul" is the title of my new self-help book for paddlers. Look for it. Geoff, next time you're hanging there underwater, amphibiously inverted and wishing you had stayed in bed, I want you to get this list out and spend a few minutes going through it. It's a collection of simple affirmations and relaxation exercises which will set you up for proper rolling, and I think you'll find that your combat roll will get a lot more reliable in a very short time if you consult it when you're in trouble.

1) Start by confessing your sins. You're probably petrified that St. Peter's not going to unhook the velvet rope for you, so why not get rid of that obstacle by coming clean? You've been rolled and you're getting whacked around by the rocks and the holes, so you've got a head start on the penance thing. Jesus is waiting to hear from you. Call now.

2) Go to your happy place, unless this conflicts with item (1). I have a happy place I like to go to, but then again I'm married and when I go to my happy place it's both holy and legal.

3) Wow. Here you are on item number three already. And you're still alive. Don't you think you should move your paddle across to your strong side and tuck in your head?

4) You can't really take deep breaths at this stage of the game, but another good technique for purging stress from the body is to make sure your toes are comfortable. Think about your toes…all ten of them. Have you named them yet? Wiggle them around a little bit. Are they dry? Do they feel pinched by your bulkhead? Are they getting plenty of blood? When was the last time you scrubbed out from between them? Eew.

5) While you're thinking about your feet and legs, if you were to brace your knees on either side of the cockpit it would set you up pretty well for your hip snap.

6) Meditate upon this koan. A seeker once asked Rabbi Loxnmatzo for instruction in the way of wisdom. "Come closer and I'll whisper the secret in your ear," answered the rabbi. The seeker approached, but maintained a respectful distance. "No, no, don't be afraid, my boy," coaxed the rabbi. "Stand next to me, right here, very close." The seeker obeyed. The rabbi put his arm around the seeker's shoulders and raised his lips to the seeker's ear. "GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE!" the rabbi hollered.

7) Discussion question: What's a rabbi doing in a Zen koan?

8) I'm thinking now would be a good time to lean over to your strong side, feel for resistance on your strong-side paddle blade, and pull down. Snapping your opposite hip wouldn't hurt, either.

9) Take a metaphorical pause. Do you see what you're doing? You're rolling your boat, just like you practiced in the swimming pool. You're not doing anything complicated…just practicing some simple action/reaction physics.

10) Well, here you are! Upright, soaking wet, gasping for air, and hopefully grinning from ear to ear. You just hit a combat roll! Word to your mama! Elapsed time: about a half hour. We can work on that, but for now be content that you're still inside your boat. Your friends downstream are cheering and high-fiving. The squirrels are twittering in ecstasy and little birds are actually weaving you a crown of golden feathers. You da man.

And my work here is done. Getting Geoff over the hump and into the eddy through exorcism of spiritual psychosis is all in a good day's work. There are many ways to accomplish this sort of thing…if, for instance, this were a Kevin Costner movie I could dress Geoff up in women's underwear and tell him to breathe through his eyelids, but isn't that kind of icky poo? Point is, nobody should think too much. Especially about the meaning of this column.

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