In my last post, I wrote about my wonderful two day get-away with my husband to the scenic region of Niagara Falls.
One of the first tourist attractions that my husband arranged for us to do was a special boat ride along the Niagara River called "white water jet whirlpool."
For the hour or so that we were on this boat, I felt like a teenager again. Before boarding, we were forewarned that the ride would be bumpy and at times scary. We were also told that we would get wet—very wet—and that we should take along an extra change of clothing. But despite these warnings, I wasn't prepared for what lay ahead…
We began our adventure, by putting on heavy plastic coverings. We donned extra sweaters, to keep us warm in the colder temperature by the water, and an additional plastic rain coat, rubber bonnet and water shoes, topped off by a tightly fastened life jacket. In short, we were covered from head to toe in this thick yellow rubber shield before embarking on the boat.
The jet boat had about fifteen rows of seats and we were advised that the first rows would be the roughest and wettest. Of course, my husband opted for us to sit up front!
And then our escapade began.
At first, the boat rode slowly, almost like a relaxing tour in the river. But before long, we were bumpily riding the waves of the largest white water rapids. The river beneath us felt like hard jagged rocks sharply beating against our boat and I held on for dear life over each huge wave that we encountered. Water came pouring in on us, as if in bucketfuls, repeatedly splashing and thrashing our faces and bodies. No matter how much yellow rubber was enveloping us, we became thoroughly drenched, through and through. The hammering of the water was relentless, as were the walloping rapids, the boat's sharp turns and its sudden short stops.
In the moments that I wasn't gripping the steel bar in front of me so tightly that my knuckles turned white, I was joining in with the screams of all the other adult passengers on board.
Before long, the ship's captain announced that we were slightly ahead of schedule and asked if we wished to ride one more "bonus" ride on the biggest, bumpiest and highest rapid yet. Our group's undivided, resounding "yes" was followed once again by the ensuing hysterical screams, more drenching downpours and heart-stopping, menacing bumps.
And then, of course, hilarious giggles.
The group that debarked from the ship was sopping and dishevelled, but nevertheless unanimously happy. We had paid generously for this terrifying, bumpy encounter where huge waterfalls were slapped across our heads and faces. And yet we all exited laughing heartily.
And that is when I thought about how our attitude and perspective to each of life's challenges makes all the difference to our experience.
In a different set of circumstances, each of us would have been furious to be caught in such a downpour, soaked to the bone and subjected to such intimidating, heart-stopping activities. But because we perceived our experience as something enjoyable, as an adventure that we willingly undertook, these very same activities were seen with entirely different eyes.
Is there perhaps a message here on riding the bumpy waves, or in experiencing the drenching downpours of our lives?
