As the hazy light filtering through the trees began to part the fog with increasingly insistent fingers, I quickened the rhythm of my oars sliding nearly soundlessly through the water. In an attempt to control the urgency of my movement, my mission, before it overwhelmed and swallowed me whole I steered my gaze to the vines lazily caressing the glass smooth water. I drew in my breath in time to their undulations, became languid and fluid, calm and undisturbed. For this moment I could merely exist. There was no one to see me, to hear me, to sense my presence. Not yet. I could have this moment to feel the coolness of the mist still wrapped around my body like a slightly too chilly cloak, damp but refreshing and clean. I could rest my mind, my soul, in preparation for what lay ahead while my body continued to pull my little boat forward. I am a leaf moving thoughtlessly in the current. Pulling my edges in here and there, tucking in, stretching out, everything and nothing coursing in my body. The resistance of my oars pulling through the water sent Everything to pool in my limbs, the rippled movement forward and oars dripping bright drops back into its source brought the peace and release of Nothing. Tight, loose, tight, loose… nothing else to do or think at that moment. Just exist in the movement and the pause. No backwards, no forwards. Just this. I am only this.