The Duck Knows...

My dad speaks to me in funny ways… sometimes in still moments, or through animals, and in ways I don’t expect.  So this morning a mallard is sitting on the dock, brilliant markings against blue sky and calm water. He is still - even as I approach. In a quiet moment I hear something like, “Bring a coffee and pull up a chair,” as if he said it.  And so, of course I do. 

 “See how calm the water is…  how the lake is like glass today?” The duck says in my imagination. …. “Can you feel how soft and quiet the air is?”… (long pause)  Don’t forget to fall in love with all this,” the duck says . “Lean back. You have time.” 

Only his voice sounds somehow like my dad’s. My dad would know that the cup of coffee would hook me every time.  He also knows my “conditioned tendency”, a somatic term for bodies that press and stress into automatic shapes that do the same things under pressure every time - and one of mine is the “get-er-done” shape. I push forward, make lists.  Where some see beauty, I see that the lawn mower missed spots and now I have more things to get done; a list that burns in my chest the way money burns in pockets.  I want stuff done, and ALL done so I can put a bow on it.  

And then what?  After all that I forget to fall in love.  I lose the plot.  And there I am wound tight sitting in hot traffic fantasizing about my list and I am missing the whole point. 

The duck drops into the still water and glides to a ledge in full sun.., now his emerald-gold sparkles in brighter colors than I ever knew existed. I have new eyes.   He’s  basking in the sun and sips water like it’s delicious.  He looks like he has all day - an idea that’s foreign to me.  My body eases back into my chair as I watch him - like he’s showing me how. 

My dad eventually eased back into his chair as a way of life. He used to climb hills of ambition with his Johnny-long-legs like everything was a race, one ambition after another - and yet, he  somehow learned how to rest into his back body, put his feet up and savor. He was gliding on water and taking it all in - just like this duck.…and he begged me to do the same.  

Only I couldn't hear him because I wasn’t done with this list.  Besides, he never quite  understood how important my list was. 

But today I could hear my dad’s voice speaking through soft water  because I was too tired to fuss, too quiet to think, too slow and too still to do anything but hear words wrapped in the beauty of a duck, “Don’t forget to fall in love, or you’ll lose the plot.” he says one last time as he swims away. 

There I sat, a soft body glistening in the morning sun, finally realizing this is all my dad ever wanted for me.