Finding Trust, Meaning and Direction When Life’s River Turns into Rapids

Train tracks at night—a metaphor for the lighted way

At times, the placid stream of life suddenly turns into rapids. Then the rapids become a torrent.

Linda and I, now in our mid-80s, have recently experienced how quickly this can happen. Within just a couple of years, physical developments began to demand major shifts in diet, lifestyle and living arrangements.

Looking back, I realize that I hadn’t paid much attention to the small physical annoyances that crept up in both of us. Even when that short list developed into “events” requiring professional assessment and treatment, I didn’t recognize them as signposts of a trend—the onset of the aging process. More likely, it was denial.

But my appreciation here is not really about that. Or not just that.

It’s about our response to change—particularly when the slow-moving stream of life becomes rapids and those rapids turn into a raging torrent. Suddenly we were navigating in blinding fog, with gigantic boulders and steep falls ahead.

At any age, these are the life-altering moments that demand a multitude of decisions to be made quickly. Unexpected turns keep appearing. There isn’t enough information. Misdirection occurs. Expenses mount. So do the pressures and demands to keep moving forward. Everything becomes both “necessary” and “urgent.”

Without family coming to the rescue, we surely would have drowned. I can’t even imagine what that might have looked like.

As the purpose of this blog is appreciation, the first and most important blessing in times of dramatic change is a supportive and loving family—especially when it comes to the aging process.

Another blessing is an experience so familiar that I tend to take it for granted. In everyday language, we call it “going with the flow.”

From a spiritual perspective, it means aligning with the eternal soul—following its pre-birth plan, the reason we’ve come to Earth at this particular time in its evolution, in parallel with our own evolution in consciousness.

I’m writing this on a peaceful morning after four months of being tossed and turned in the rapids.

While the waters are still turbulent, a perspective came to mind that allowed me to stop paddling so hard and trust, with confidence, that the river has a purpose.

While the destination is obscured by fog, the journey itself is golden—a treasure trove of learning:

to be more,
love more,
appreciate more,
and give more in different ways.

The perspective that not only reinforced my resignation but made it joyful, unfolded over the course of several months.

It began when Linda had a stroke, mostly affecting her speech and ability to walk beyond 20 steps. (Therapies are helping on both fronts).

Every day brought new demands amid a flurry of activity requiring discussion and decisions. Our mantra was “One day at a time.” I needed information. It came—often without effort.

Problems were solved.

Potentially difficult conversations worked to my advantage. Research I needed to do was completed by others. A swirl of options quickly reduced itself to a scenario that succeeded.

While days turned into weeks of exhaustion, everything that needed to happen—happened.

When asked how I was managing, I told a friend that I was simply “following the breadcrumbs.”

Driving back from visiting Linda in her assisted living apartment one evening, I realized that metaphor wasn’t quite right.

Provisions and resources were appearing. Positive resolutions to challenges and opportunities for the future were showing up as a pattern.

The feeling of being led by my soul was so obvious—and happening so often—that another image came to mind.

It was like moving down a dark airport runway.

After each incident, confusion, or moment of misdirection a light would suddenly illuminate along the side of the runway—first on the left, then on the right.

Just ahead of every challenge, demand, or breakdown another light would turn on.

After a while there were dozen ahead on both sides.

On another occasion someone asked how I was managing the storm.

Spontaneously I said, “I’m just following the lighted way.”

Hearing myself say that, it felt right.

I don’t recall the source, but someone once said, “Love lights the way.”

Exactly.

The whirlwind of activity didn’t abate after that insight. But with a fresh reminder that the storm itself was the way of the soul—purposeful relative to the lessons I needed to learn—it no longer mattered that I was being tossed and turned or that I couldn’t see the destination.

The Lighted Way

Change—wanted or unwanted—happens. It can’t be avoided.

Within every incarnation, the soul is the driver. It moves us into mental and physical contexts—places, people and situations that provide potential opportunities to balance karma from previous incarnations and guide us toward the realization of our true, divine nature.

Having free will, we can align with it—or not.

I believe that beyond repeating the lesson until it is learned, there is no punishment—here or in the afterlife—for choosing otherwise.

Living in alignment with the soul, the lighted way, is simply the graceful path. Do we want to learn the hard lessons now or come again to face them in another context?

Life can still be difficult, and at times fraught with pain and suffering. But because the soul knows us better than we know ourselves—and can only speak the truth of our eternal being—the lighted way leads directly to the destination.

In this metaphor, the lights are not solutions to challenges.

I see them as guidance—beacons illuminating the next step in the direction of the soul’s learning agenda. Ultimately, they guide us toward the making real of a truth already fully realized.

The lights appear quietly.
One at a time.
Exactly when they are needed.

They’re activated through resignation: a state of consciousness that fully trusts and allows the soul (or God) to run the show.

“I don’t know what’s best for me or what I should do.
You do. Please show me.
Point—I’ll follow.”

Given that, I simply watch what happens. The lights don’t reveal the entire journey—only the next step.

If something works, it’s a light—and I go with it.

When the lights form a pattern, more and more of the runway ahead is illuminated. Perhaps you’ve experienced this as well—the quiet appearance of light just when the next step is needed—like lines that converge along a dark railroad track.

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David L. Smith Photography Portfolio.com

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