River Rumble

Yesterday, a good friend of mine took me to the Muskegon River for a 2 and a half hour float. I buttered myself up with 55 spf, put on my bathing suit and flow pants, threw a kombucha and some peaches in a bag with my towel, and after strapping on my Chacos, and I was ready to roll.

I think of a lot of my women friends as full-rounded women: the maiden, the mother, and the sage. It seems that we all fluidly sway between the three, and always bringing in child-like play in one way or another. This Aries friend of mine is a goof, I sense a maiden between her talent of makeup and confident gender expression. She feels comfortable to me, comfortable in her sense of self, all of who she is. She is outspoken in ways that seem she simply and authentically embraces every one of her felt emotions, something I want for myself. And I think of her as both mother and sage in the sense that she is wise, educated, and a critical thinker in activism, queer rights, eco-conscious living, and overall basic human rights-- also qualities I want more of in and for myself and my direct life experience. It feels so good to be around others with similar values and morals as me. I do feel there is great benefit in the practice of allowing others to hold beliefs contrasting my own... Though it is a practice, and in this practice I do still consistently and simultaneously feeling a looming discomfort in my belly when I hear others talk of cutting down trees for a better view, their "disagreement" with (rejection of) queer 'lifestyle,' or when I see others litter. The discomfort signifies to me that I hold different options I'm still finding the balance in allowing others to be who they are, and also allowing myself to be who I am-- even when I feel rejected by others who I want love from. Practicing this balance in Allowing helps me to grow my inner peace, which I treasure so deeply, but I can't deny the internal upset and occasional anger when I hear or see harmful actions out in the world.

My friend truly harnesses that Aries fire. I admire it because I want it. I tend to be more logical, more intellectual in understanding my emotions and what they are telling me, and she seems to let the flames out so easily. I don't have much memory of actually feeling anger growing up. It's actually probably one of many things inside of me I deeply understood as wrong, and developed a both unhealthy and somewhat illogical urge to purge out of me. Anger is tricky for me. I feel it, yet I feel guilty for feeling it, and tend to direct the anger inwards for feeling anger at all, and then it turns to shame. Which in itself is illogical, our emotions are evolutionary tools that have protected us through time-- alerting to us that something may be wrong. I like thinking of myself as animalistic, it simply makes more sense to me than the 'conditioning' of society.

My Aries friend made sure-- by driving us to 4 different Speedways along the way-- that I would have a little guy. Part of Speedway's Pride collection includes mini blown up animals that act as a floating cupholder, and they are literally the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life. They have Pride cups with sparkles and rainbows, and say things like "All flavors welcome," and other nice inclusive messages. I felt so seen and understood. After years of highly confusing and utterly heart-breaking lesbian experiences, with no history of a "real girlfriend," I've found that my Sexuality is simply confusing. I'm selectively out as queer to those I know will accept it, but there is still such deep internalized homophobia that I feel restrains me from being 'fully out.' My Aries friend reminds me that nobody questions a straight woman's sexuality despite never having a boyfriend, so why would anyone's queer identity be stripped away simply due to the lack of a committed queer relationship? This the kind of simple logic of which only a queer liberal has ever reminded me.

Anyways, back to the River. We paid for our floats, tied our inner tubes to either side of the cooler tube so it would float between us on our journey, and carried them down to the water. Walking into the water is brisk, though not as cold as the Lake Michigan Plunge I created on June 1st. We plop ourselves down and immediately begin to plan our paddling to avoid the bushes, branches, and twisted trees that line the sides of this sacred water. We say the River is giving us a tour of its life, remembering this water has seen more and holds far more wisdom than the two of us combined. I watch the cottonwood carried softly atop the current, while my Aries friend sings her River rat song: "Take me to the River, sucked into the bushes... River rat River rat River rat." We float along and she points out a turtle on a rock. As we float, we gain perspective, and see the turtle is atop the other turtle, in a position that looks like mating, though I'd never seen a turtle mate. I waved to the turtle and said "Hello!" and I kid you not, this turtle lifts its tiny little arm and twitches it in a waving motion. I love when exciting and surprising things like that occur in the company of a friend, that moment where your heads snap back to make eye contact, and you see your friends jaw is dropped equally low as your own.

We laugh, we chat, we see blue cranes, baby geese, and more turtles. We paddle with full arms and sink our strapped-sandaled feet in to kick. We avoid trees and bushes, coming close to a large spider-filled branch where Aries screams, "We need to paddle!" Again our arms and legs are the life force of active engagement with the wise waters that carry us.

There is a train and I say it is so interesting to be immersed in nature, yet hear the sounds of the world outside of us. "Newaygo," my Aries friend replies. Around the bend, there are tall bundles of branches with leaves that create an almost blackness inside of them. The trees hold secrets, wisdoms, and surely spiders that would make us both scream.

Our flowing floating tour continues, and we see secret coves with miniature creeks where faeries like to play. The River shows us 'the best camping spots,' as Aries likes to call areas where people seem to live, but are rarely ever seen. She tells me stories about things I don't remember the specifics of, but I do remember full-belly laughing into the water as I switch between watching the reflection of her arm on the water, and the rocks through it and below as we pass.

We put our feet down and stand as rocks fill my sandals. Pink tubes float around our yellows, and we hear a mother say "Eat your cookie and sit down." We hear a group of blond women going around the circle revealing their "worst hookup and best hookup,'"and "those Mississippi men know how to kiss." We watch them run into bushes as one of the maybe 8, embrace the water to swim them away. I observe how 'teamwork' looks to those who condescendingly look at me perched in a somewhat-squat on my tube and say, "you're cute," as if those words are the acceptance for which I'm looking.

We put down our feet and decide to let the pinks pass, and I hold onto the tail of my floating monkey cupholder and he looks to be surfing the current. We full-belly laugh at Milton, my monkey, and Bonnie, Aries' floating butterfly. We see the pink girls pass, both us and a more friendly group who'd run into trees, and we continue to talk about the wonders of the River. Aries points out fish at least 12 inches long, and we move our tubes towards more shallow waters as we discuss the giant fish.

In my holding my Inner peace, I tend to stay in 'my own world.' I will help others when the opportunity is there, but I have a habit of minding my own business. My Aries friend seems to be more aware of others in the world, what they are going through and who is getting sucked into trees. So she was more watchful of the 'more friendly group who'd run into the trees,' and we both began to look with more curiosity. Did they need help? We began to turn towards them and decided we should help, when we heard a member of this friendly group shout out, "We need help!"

Aries and I began to trek towards them, holding our feet to the rocks as long as possible, until it was time to swim. My stomach leaned over the front of my inner tube and I began to swim like I was back in my High School pool, pulling my body and the tubes linked around it like I was going for a state-qualifying record. I didn't look at Aries as she swam, too, watching our cooler float, ensuring our keys and valuables were kept above.

We got to the group in the tree. There were probably 5 or 6 of them still in their floats, and 3 empty tubes. They were all tied together, just like us. Though their ropes were tangled in branches, wrapped around one another, and one girl was nearing neck-deep in the water, holding herself up to breathe. I was holding one of their handles and I heard "these ropes are all wrapped up, they need to be cut." I heard someone say "bro I can't swim," and I looked back at our tubes, still upright. I reached out my hand and told the non-swimmer to grab it, and Aries untied their tubes. We all began to flow with the current again, but 2 people who had once occupied those empty tubes were on the land, one girl standing stunned, while the man shouted "she hit her head!"

With Aries assuring our things stayed dry and swimming us, too, the rest of the group was still panicked and seemed to be unable to swim. I fully dunked at this point, River Hat falling behind my soaked braids, the strap pulling against my throat. With one limb holding onto this string of people in tubes, and the other arm pulling, I tried the best I could to reunite them with their friends. We did our best, but there came a time where we couldn't hold on longer, we just couldn't fight the current of the River. As Aries and I began to flow down our 'tour' again, we waved to them and shouted things like "Glad you're okay!" and "Good Luck!" But really, I don't remember the specifics. I was shivering at this point, exhausted from the adrenaline fueling my strokes, and a sadness growing, for those pink girls who seemed to ignore the tangled group.

We immediately began to verbally digest what had just occurred. Aries pointed out the divine timing of it all, that if she had not put her feet down (and if we had not stalled further, watching giant fish,) we never would have been able to save them. "Every choice you make, is diving timing" she said. I kept saying, internally stunned, "I'm just so thankful we were able to help them," and she replied "Not helped, Saved, Stephanie. You Saved them." Tears welled in my eyes and I know I could have burst into sobs, then I heard my Aries friend smiling as she announced "There is another blue crane!" And we continued to float.

At the beginning of our day, when we first pulled into the tubing parking lot, all of the spots were taken. Aries seemed at first frustrated, then very bummed, as her parking spot, the one she had parked in every time under the tree, was taken. We parked in a public lot just one street over, and I told her that maybe by the time we walk down and pay for our tubes, a spot will open up. The cashier revealed their overflow parking to us, just on some grass across the street from the lot. When we walked back to the car to drop off our wallets, we drove it down and saw that one spot in the parking lot had opened up, the one in the shade under the tree. I sensed my friend beaming as she said "This is a sign I am meant to be here."

"I want a sign!" I said. "I love your sign and I want one too!" We laughed about what my sign could be, maybe somebody yelling my name on the River, or perhaps the mating turtle offering me a hello.

My mom recently had told me, "Stephanie, you have to be careful what you ask for because you will get it." I had written in my journal something about 'if the bats come back, I will know...' and of course, the bats who'd been entering my apartment, indeed returned.

After our discussion of divine timing, Aries looked at me and said "Well, there was your sign."