Acadian Rhythms

Josh and I went to visit my parents in Maine this weekend, where they had rented a small house on the outskirts of Acadia National Park. I spent a lot of time in that area as a kid, but I hadn't managed to return for many years. I kept wanting to, and kept going to other places instead.

It was so strange to recognize bits of trail that I hadn't hiked in 10 years. I wasn't sure that I'd recognize anything, and certainly, the towns have changed enough that I really didn't remember much. But the trails were the same! And I was so happy to see them again that I wished we'd had more time.

It's interesting; there was a time (not so long ago) when I was thankful for the chattering in my head and for the fact that no one else could share my thoughts unless I let them. In those days, my imagination was a powerhouse that I loved and cultivated. Lately it's become a dull nag that I try to drown out and ignore. It's become a source of self doubt and uncertainty, whereas it used to be a wellspring of joy and strength for me.

During my weekend in Acadia, and seeing all of the things that used to ignite my childhood thoughts, I realized the sad transformation that has happened to my mind since then. It made me wonder if the whole thing is just a normal occurrence on the road to adulthood, and also if some people never do recover from it and therefore become bitter.

I thought about the granite surface of the trails, the short and twisted pine trees that dot the sides of the taller mountains, and the ramp leading down from the road in Bar Harbor into Frenchman's Bay. I was obsessed with that ramp when I was little, because it was a paved road that went right down into the sea. I used to think about the sea floor shrouded in dim mystery and populated by cold-loving creatures, and how inhospitable the sea is to land life (but yet gave birth to us all), and how you could roll a boat down from the streets of Maine and sail it anywhere else in the world (so vast is the ocean), and wonder if explorers and pirates had ever thought the same things as I. My parents and I would walk past that ramp on the way to dinner and I would be reticent throughout the meal, my head alight with thoughts about that ramp and the rocky sea floor that you could just make out if you stared hard at the base of it.

Remembering all of those things this weekend was like a wind gusting through my mind and clearing away a lot of old dust. I came away from it all thinking that maybe parenthood isn't so much about protecting your offspring from every conceivable danger, but rather about giving them the inner strength to renew themselves and prevail.

I didn't panic on the plane during either of our flights. I took the time to calm my rising discomfort when I felt it first ignite, and actually, it was easy to put down. I enjoyed the feeling of control.