‘Community Presence’: Guidance from the Ganny
By Independent columnist Angie Morrison
Being next to the Ganaraska River is one of my favourite activities for creating calm.
There’s something magical about feeling the fresh air, watching the water flow effortlessly, and listening to the trickling sounds as it passes over rocks and ridges.
And as always, at this time of year, we have the good fortune of being able to witness the annual migration of the salmon upstream as they return to their origins for spawning.
For me this holds some special meaning this year. I recently helped my firstborn child move over 700 kilometres away to begin her first experience away from home at university. I’d heard from other parents the emotions that surfaced because of children “leaving the nest,” and I’d worked on preparing myself for the journey.
After all, the hard work was really the preceding 18 years ensuring that the child was endowed with the skills required to have independence, right? She was great – eager, packed, courses selected, friends already made through social media – turns out it was me who cried the span of the province all the way home.
Despite knowing that this was exactly what was supposed to happen, I felt so much grief. Grief for the passing of time, for the closing of a chapter, for releasing a part of my identity I’d held onto so dearly. Grief for the moments I missed, or was too distracted and busy, for the times I didn’t “show up” in a way I was proud of, and grief for the nights I was too tired to enjoy reading a bedtime story. All this spinning and churning together in a whirlpool of love, joy, pride and great memories.
And so, sitting at the river, watching the salmon do what salmon do naturally, I felt a sort of kinship or mentorship. These fish trust their instincts – they know exactly when and where to go. They rest in gentle waters when they need to, gathering energy and use their inner strength to launch themselves up against all odds.
They don’t appear to question the phases of their existence; centuries of returning home to complete the cycle give reason to trust nature’s plan.
I know Port Hope will always be home to my children – they’ve spent their entire lives here, attended school with the same core group of youths, explored every inch of town on their bikes. They’ve fished the river, rafted it and swam in it. Whether their instincts guide them back after experiencing more of the world, well that will remain untold.
For today, the river continues its journey to open waters, and my image is reflected in its ever-changing cascade of movement and life.
Angie Morrison is a yoga/mindfulness practitioner and Port Hope resident. You can find her wandering through forests and gardens or on Instagram @flow.with.amo.
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