.

he moves past swans, soundlessly slices water
as his paddles catch sunlight on each upstroke.
he glides under a small wooden bridge. above
him, a wedding party poses for photographs;
the bridesmaids are wearing pink champaigne.
swinging starboard, he rests beside a dock
and with no sailboats in port, climbs out of
his orange kayak and there he sits cross-legged,
eating carrots from a plastic bag. after lifting
his head to scan the harbour, he shouts across
the water, something about how canada geese don't
like carrots but will eat orange rind. 8 of them
float expectantly-near, the graceful curve of
their necks overlapping my view. he tosses a few
strips just to prove his point but they refuse
and this is how our conversation begins.

with voices amplified by water, we discuss
hidden local sites, the ones that can't
be reached by unconventional means but only
by bicycle, canoe, sailboat, cross-country
skis and by kayak. he describes the small
cove he just visited not far from where we
sit, one supposedly teeming with wildlife,
with birds and animals typically not found
in more populated areas, great blue heron
amoung them which are something of a rarity
to see in this region but spectacular to watch.
impressive wingspans that stretch across the
sky like flying satoris. perhaps because
there aren't many left, conservationists and
bird enthusiasts remain protective of them.
for anyone else who appreciates the sanctity
of green space, they form part of the local
flavour. like canada geese.

at this point in our conversation and with
too-wide a gulf between us for easy shouting,
he heads for the rocks where I am seated,
where me and Borges (with all my pencilled
notes in his margins) sit. I close the book
on some private thoughts as he settles beside
me, perhaps a little too close. with feet
dangling off the edge, he continues to toss
orange slices at the geese who consistently
refuse them. he describes what it's like to
be out on the bay in winter, wet suit defying
lake winds and icy temperatures, insists
that these conditions require a kayak that
does not roll and adds that he also scuba-dived
to the bottom last winter even if he didn't
find much of interest there.

his leg brushes mine although he doesn't
appear to notice. anyone who enjoys these
kinds of things, who voluntarily spends
this kind of time alone outside, becomes
quite comfortable with solitude and develops
a particular kind of self-assurance, wears
it like a second skin. he clearly contains
an appreciation for his physicality, for the
good health of his own singularity, but more
importantly he owns a certain inward-calm.

he tells me that he routinely cycles through
cemetaries, sometimes stopping to read the
oldest tombstones, and that he once found a
head stone with an attached stone bench for
visitors to sit on. oddly, we share the details
of particular grave sites that each of us have
separately discovered while cycling through
the same places. ultimately, our conversation
retains a sense of surprise throughout, like
a good hiking trail.

but the light is low in the sky and he needs
to paddle back across the bay before sunset.
he has not asked me for anything, we do not
exchange names or numbers, he does not pitch
an awkward tone with wordy expectations but
instead leaves without a trace; I admire
t/his ability to expect nothing from others,
to appreciate moments for what they are.

aspects of him remind me of someone else,
just as a second stranger also did earlier
today, even if for completely different
reasons, and if that`s overkill, so be it.

beyond these small thoughts, beyond the reasons
that always pull me back to the water, I review
(Deleuze and) Guattari's ecosophic ideas. an
ethico-aesthetic paradigm that reads like a
soundless craft across my day. these ideas
come and go, even through Borges, and without
any admonishment. but once rooted in the head,
continue to expand like a flock of flying
satoris.

"Thus the issue returns with insistence:
how do we change mentalities, how do we
reinvent social practices that would give
back to humanity - if it ever had it - a
sense of responsibility, not only for its
own survival, but equally for the future
of all life on the planet, for animal and
vegetable species, likewise for incorporial
species such as music, the arts, cinema,
the relation with time, love and compassion
for others, the feeling of fusion at
the heart of the cosmos?"
(Felix Guattari, Chaosmosis, 1992)