We stood staring at the swollen river. If we did not get across, we wouldn’t get to our chartered plane. We’d miss Mahale and a major adventure that brought us to Africa. Our guide had already accomplished heroic feats to ensure our best in Tanzania, narrowly outwitting El Nino’s havoc.
“Stay here,” said Thad, “I’ll try it first. If I get across, you follow.” His dauntless spirit had guided us through countless torrential escapes. We’d crossed deep rivers before. We watched — each of us, in spirit, behind the wheel — as he gunned it into swirling waters, his Land Rover aching to prove its steel. “Go, go, go!” we yelled. Hugging the adjoining bank, half in the river, half out, there was no fighting nature’s fury. The Land Rover, all our luggage, my camera, and Thad gave sway to the rushing torrent. His best effort could not out-manuever Mother Nature’s mischief.
We spent the afternoon fanning drenched clothes over our campfire, hanging them on briar bushes and heavy brush, until the rains, again, chased us under cover. Thad and his men worked tirelessly to pull his Land Rover from the river. At day’s end, the spirit of our group was only higher.
Africa is rich in little life lessons. You discover yourself there as much as the land. Over and over, we learned, by fire: Focus on the moment and not the outcome. You cannot be angry, resentful, or place blame, when someone’s intentions are clear and pure. You participate in the outcome, take on responsibility yourself, by your acknowledgment and acceptance of their stated intent.
There’s healing in letting go. Letting go of moments we disappoint, letting go of disappointment we experience from others. It frees up energy drained off by sulking. For ourselves, it is important to state clearly our intention, to be direct with our plan: I can be with you fifteen minutes. I can do this for you, but I cannot do that. I can be your friend; I cannot be your everything. State your intention clearly. Don’t get hung up on the outcome. It is up to the other to deal with their feelings, their disappointment.
When dealing with others, know their intention, clarify their limits, before making judgment about any outcome of their action. If we accept their intent, we have allowed what is to follow. The feelings are ours to deal with and resolve: If I clearly know your limits, I can deal more consciously with my own disappointment. If you have told me upfront the boundaries of our agreement, I will be less devastated by my wish for more.
The root meaning of to suffer is to allow. If I know your intent, I allow what follows, but that does not mean it will come without suffering. When the Land Rover went into the river, there was anguish, but no blame, no anger. When I lost my camera to the river’s fury, I felt no blame towards our guide, as I had participated in his desire to try. If I felt loss, I also felt involved with the losing. This does not erase the sting of the moment.
What I learned from all this is a freeing, a letting go, a letting be of what is. My energy was free to embrace what was offered, usually an unexpected blessing or gift. Without my camera to obstruct my vision in moments of wondrous wildlife and nature, my soul was available to soak in images that will dance in me long after my photographs are put away. When one road was blocked to us, inaccessible, the road that was available only intensified my adventure. When I knew the intentions of those around me, I could relax, be myself, allow them to be who they are.
This whole river story cannot be told without a mention of the rainbow that graced us that day. It spirited us on to find another way, in the opposite direction, over a less swollen river. It colored our hope as we approached our chartered plane, as we lifted off for Mahale and the chimpanzees we came to see. It had followed us throughout Tanzania, became a sign for our journey. It’s intent to us was clear: Things are good, look and see.