#but as much as I love goat dad & fish daughter it's too situational to the roles and just impossible here. so it goes to these two instead

[missholoska]

Alphys are you Toriel close?

[so-i-dont-forget-again]

So I Don’t Forget Again: A Breath of The Wild fanfiction

Entry 170: Rito Village

 Even though I can’t fly and most of their techniques involves the intricacies of flying and shooting at the same time I’ve still learned a lot. Teba said we were going to take a break today; he had noticed my arm started acting up yesterday and thought I needed a break. Yesterday he thought I just might not have stretched enough before training but seeing me this morning he thought I might have pulled something and suggested I ask Saki to take a look at it.

I guess I’ll have to visit the Domain soon. I’m not even near finished with the medicine I have now. Feels like a waste to have not finished this stuff before getting new medicine, but I was given an excess amount since they didn’t know how long I was going to be gone for.

Bossa Nova kept nudging my arm and side, I think he’s noticed too. That or he just wants scratches and pets. After getting here he practically had been getting them nonstop from just about everyone. With no one petting him I guess he now wanted me to pet him, and he nudged me less after I pet him. There’s also plenty of foliage here. I think Bossa Nova is getting spoiled here. I hope he’ll be okay with leaving when I’m done here.

I found Amali calling out for Kheel. She had gone missing and Amali was searching around the whole village. Though things are much safer, the Yiga have been around attacking people.

Teba and I had been using them in training as targets. I understand it’s to protect everyone in the village, but… I feel nauseous seeing the bodies pile up.

I offered to search outside the village for Kheel.

She was at Warbler’s Nest. She wants to finally have singing practice with her sisters but they refuse to go and she refuses to leave till they join her. I told her that if she had to practice here I or some other warrior should be there. It seems she doesn’t know about the Yiga. I thought about explaining the situation to her but I shouldn’t scare her, what if she becomes too scared to leave the village even when it is safe. I tried telling her there were other dangerous creatures around like wolves, but she still refused. She didn’t need to practice here every day, but it had been so long she at least wanted to sing here just once. I told her that I wanted to hear their singing and didn’t want to miss a thing, so I asked her if she’d please come with me to find her sisters so I could hear their recital practice.

First Kheel and I checked back home and found Genli at the cooking pot, she wanted to do some cooking and had sent some of the others to help her collect some missing ingredients while she prepared. She did tell us where she thought some of the others would be at like the store and such.

When we were searching Amali spotted us and was relieved to see us back safely. She told Kheel it was still too dangerous to be out. I explained I’d be there to look after them, but Amali wasn’t happy. Apparently Teba had told her we were taking a break and told me I was to be resting, not fighting still. I explained the situation with my arm but that only got her to say that was even more reason to rest. She then sighed, saying I am an adult who could make choices for himself but she highly recommended that I return to the zora before my infections get worse and become more permanent, maybe even stay with them till I’m fully healed since all the Divine Beasts had been appeased now.

Even if I’m still fighting, for me, just staying here is a rest. Amali paused for a moment then so softly told me that whenever I needed a break I could always come back here. She then told me to go back to playing with my sisters as Kheel seemed to be getting impatient. She then got flustered noticing what she had said and apologized. In a lot of ways I am rather similar to Kass and with how I’m always with her daughters, playing with them and such whenever I returned from training with Teba I was like a big brother to them. Kass had spoken much of me before Amali and I had actually met, and the tales were so accurate, she felt like she had known me for much longer than we actually had, so in a way I felt somewhat like her own child as odd as it may sound. Especially with how Kass spoke of me in a similar way he had of their daughters.

When Amali and I were hugging Kheel joined in, confused but didn’t want to be left out. I promised her I’d be more careful and that I’d go see the zora doctors soon and return better than ever. Amali said that when I come back, I should bring my boyfriend so she and everyone else could meet him, though with Kass’ many tales of Sidon he sounded like a great person. I think Sidon would like that and I told her I’d see what I could do.

Cree was buying goat butter. Notts was supposed to be helping but seems she wasw slacking off and Knotts was out fishing. I had to do a bit of climbing to reach her, but we found her on her stone perch and she joined us in our search. Knotts was very close to the village, on one of the pillars which were connected by bridges, there’s a little lake on one of them and there we did some spear fishing to get a hearty salmon. They said I fish funny; I didn’t think spear fishing could differ so much from zoras and rito but I suppose like fighting it can surprisingly be very different.

We all returned to the kitchen to cook with Genli. We made Salmon Meuniere, and it’s delicious! They wanted to make seconds but I convinced them not too so we wouldn’t spoil our appetite for dinner.

On they way to Warbler’s Nest they rode on Bossa Nova’s back, constantly giving him pets which I think he was very pleased with.

After some practice they asked me if I sang too. As far as I could remember I didn’t think I ever tried. They… didn’t seem too pleased with the result. I’m now their pet project of sorts. They want to teach me so I can become a great singer and serenade “The fish prince”. It’s common practice to sing to win someone’s heart and they wanted to help me with my relationship with Sidon. They said cooking was good but since I travel so much, I need to do more like their dad who sings a lot for their mom and them. They then got the bright idea of getting Kass to teach me, since we both have deeper voices than them and maybe someone with a slightly more similar range to me could help more. They pushed and pulled me all the way back to the village and demanded that Kass teach me. This whole affair was kind of embarrassing, but… the thought of singing for Sidon is nice.

After practice I assisted Amali in the kitchen again. Many of the Rito dishes involve a meat of some kind and I think many of them would be good for traveling, maybe not the fish meat pie, but many of the other ones seem like they could work like the Salmon Meuniere.

Kass and I did some chatting after dinner. He asked me it this is what it’s always like when in stay in a place after appeasing the Divine Beast, all the training I had been doing. I told him it differs from place to place, but this time… all I have left is finding the Master Sword and Defeating the Calamity and I want to make sure I’m ready. I told him staying in places is more like today, learning something, entertaining children, just… living here, and training to be a warrior is a big part of living here, though I had been training to excess lately and I told him I’d probably be letting up on it. Kass told me it was a good idea, I did so much fighting already and even if the art was my one true love, too much of anything was never good.

We just chatted, I’ve just chatted with others before, but this just felt especially nice. I wonder if it’s just Kass being Kass or what Amali had told me before, but I just really liked this. Maybe it was the soft playing of his accordion when we hadn’t talked for a while, just watching the sunset.

I asked Kass what he was going to do if I defeated the Calamity. Kass told me he’d still be searching for ancient songs. Even if I completed my task, that didn’t mean his job was done, and being a bard is his life, he’s not just doing it because of a dead man’s wish, like me and my journey.

Kass paused for a moment telling me he still didn’t have a song for Revali but he did have a song for someone else, the hero from a hundred years ago. Kass told me that though I can’t remember much his master was there when the Calamity had struck and met the old, dead me. Kass told me of how his teacher had loved Zelda but she had clearly fallen for someone else, the dead hero, and that likely colored this song, but even with jealousy he believed the hero would return and poured that belief into a song. It was still something that could possibly shed some light on my fogged memories even if heavily warped by another impression of that man.

“An ancient hero, a Calamity appears, Now resurrected after ten thousand years. Her appointed knight gives his life, shields her figure, and pays the price. The princess’ love for her fallen knight awakens her power/And within the castle the Calamity is forced to cower. But the knight survives! In the Shrine of resurrection he sleeps, until from his healing dream he leaps! For fierce and deadly trials await. To regain his strength. Fulfill his fate. To become a hero once again! To wrest the princess from evil’s den. The hero, the princess-hand in hand-Must bring the light back to this land.”

Kass asked me if the song had helped any. I… feel something tugging at the back of my mind, but I can’t seem to quite reach it. I know there was something bright, but… nothing else. But the song, I died protecting Zelda? Kass told me his teacher had witnessed it. And it was as Kass had explained before, his Teacher wanted to help and seek out the ancient songs of the hero long past to help me, and after he died Kass took on his wish. Kass said that it was too bad the hero would never return. After all he died saving the princess. He knows, he learned of my past when I had my panic attack, when he had me read through my journal with him. He knows, but… it’s like back in the Zora’s Domain now. He did however tell me that should I meet the princess I should give her my condolences for being a different person, her knight gone, and if she lives, to try to let her down easy about Sidon and I. I asked him if it was a shock to find out when I was panicking. He told me he had a suspicion ever since we solved that deer puzzle together, so he wasn’t surprised. He then started giving advice. Talking about grieving, how he had tried to deal with his feelings about his teacher passing, someone like family to him. About working with your worries, being so scared about the people you care about when traveling. About getting stuck in your head when you have no one else to talk too, one piece of advice that really struck me was speaking aloud to yourself, even just hearing the words not just in your head can make quite a difference. About how to deal with the deathly loneliness all that plus traveling through such barren landscapes on your own can bring.

Kass asked me if I could do a favor for him. He just wants to see me one last time before I set off to fight the Calamity, share a day with him and Amali and his daughters if I could. He said it might be a selfish wish, but to place his own heart at ease before I go fight the thing, he wanted to see I was prepared and felt ready to do so, maybe by then he’d have a song all of his own for me, he had a lot of material to work with after all.

Kass just pulled me into a hug when I started crying. I thanked him and told him I’d be happy to and that I was just happy to be here with everyone. He told me he was happy too.

First Page , Previous Page , Next Page 

[razorblade180]

Lasting Embers: Father’s day bonus

(Years before Yang’s return)

[A house in Vale, morning]

Ren:*layinging down peacefully upstairs*

Nora:Psst you awake?

Ren:I’m awake *kissing her nose* I have to be with an early riser like you.

Nora:*hoping back into bed* What can I say? I never run out of-

*clang*

*both look startled*

Ren:Did that come from downstairs? *getting out of bed*

Nora:Tenzen was in his room last time I checked.

Ren:*Walks down the stairs * Stay up here with him, I’m gonna check.

Nora:.......*smiling* that was easy.

*various metal clanging coming from the kitchen*

Ren:*quietly approaching* (Is it the cult again? Can I even face them again?)

*shadow looms closer*

Ren:*clenches fist*(Well, only one way to find out) *rushes into the kitchen* Free-....

*kitchen counters filled with fruits, drinks, and most importantly....*

Tenzen:*nine years old covered in flour and holding a plate of pancakes* Happy Father’s Day dad!!!!!

Ren:How did you-

Nora:*arms wrapping behind ren* He had a little help. *kisses he cheeks*

Tenzen:I made these for you! *grinning ear to ear*

Ren:*holding the plate of lotus shaped pancakes* You know.....*trying not to smile* I can really use some help eating all of these.

Nora:You heard the man; let’s eat!

Tenzen:Yaaaaay!

[Somewhere on Remnant]

*Yang and Ruby sitting on a hill*

Yang:....You know we can sense you watching right?

*raven walking up behind them*

Raven:So this is where you are, interesting.

Yang:You know you’re not supposed to out and about. Let alone seen with us.

Raven:You know what day it is right?

Ruby:Of course we know.... *sighs deeply*

Raven:He hasn’t seen you two in years and frankly, it’s taking a toll. You both know too well he’s been a situation like this before and it doesn’t get easier. Just let him know you’re okay.

Yang:*looks at Ruby*

Ruby:*tearing up* To be honest, I really want to see him too.

Yang:*staring at the sky*.........

[Jaune’s house]

Jaune:*sleeping peacefully*

Yujiin:*eight years old with long flowing hair. In pj’s right next to his bed*.........

*jumps on his stomach*

Yujin:Papa!!!! *slam*

Jaune:*jerks up in shock* What in the name of.....!!!!! *looks down*

Yujin:*on his lap* Happy Dad’s Day papa. I made you something. *pulls out a card*

Jaune:Awww that’s kiddo. *opens it*

“Thank you for being my dad and my mom”

Jaune:.....

Yujin:*grabbing his hand* I love you dad; thank you for taking care of me. I know you don’t want me to see you sad but sometimes it shows a bit. I thought maybe-

Jaune:*pulling her into a tight hug* I love you so much Yujin. I know things have been challenging but you’ve been a real trooper. I know I look a little sad but it’s almost impossible to be with a daughter like you.

Yujin:.....*tearing up and hugging him tight* I’m only tough because of you. I love you too dad.

Jaune:Let’s go have breakfast and visit your grandpa.

Yujin:*smiles* Yeah! *wiping her eyes*

[Tai’s house]

Tai:*going down stairs* Raven? Did you step out or som-

*Ruby and Yang standing by the couch*

Tai:You’re....you’re really- *met with two tight hugs,

Yang:*crying* We know this doesn’t make up for all the worries we put you through.

Ruby:*sobbing* But we think about you everyday..... we wish we could stay but-

Tai:*embracing both of them* Don’t worry about it *crying* this moment is enough. I love you girls.

Yang and Ruby:Happy Father’s Day.

Raven:*smiles*

*both finally let go*

Yang:Well we-

*knock knock*

Jaune:Tai? You up yet?

Yujin:We brought gifts!!!!

Yang:*staring at the door*.......*covers her mouth*

Tai:*touches her shoulder*

Yang:*quietly* All I want to do....is call out them and open that door.

Ruby:.....then do it.

*everyone looks at her*

Ruby:If....if you want to stay and tap out of this. I’m saying it’s okay; you’ve helped a lot. The rest of us can keep going.

Yang:Ruby you can’t be- *knock knock*

Raven:*sleepy voice* Just a moment Jaune and Yujin.

Yujin:Okay auntie!

Yang:......*grabs Ruby’s hand* We started this together so we should finish it. I miss them but, I’m not gonna leave you like that.

Ruby:*wiping her eyes and nods*

Yang:Please keep watching after them?

Tai:Of course

Raven:Always

*both sisters walk back through Raven’s portal as it vanishes*

Raven:*opens door* hey there squirt; you’re getting big! *lifting her*

Yujin:That’s because I’m tough!

Jaune:*walks to Tai* Took you two awhile to open the door. *brushes blonde hair and rose petals off him*

Tai:Listen Jaune, she-

Jaune:I’m fine. *leans on the wall* As long as they’re alive I’m fine. That means they’ll come back and I keep telling Yujin she’ll see her mom.

Tai:She wanted to call out your names.

Jaune:She did huh? .......*eyes watering* good to know. I can wait then, no matter how long.

[Menagerie desert, night time]

*knock knock knock*

Jacquelyn:*Opens the door* My goodness! Look what the desert sands brought my way.

Adam:*Walking in* Good to see you t- *cut off by a kiss*

Jacquelyn:Haven’t seen you in like five months. I guess espionage is really demanding.

Adam:The more I’m over here the less time I’m figuring out the enemy’s moves. Not only that but I got make sure a family stays safe.

Jacquelyn:I know that dummy. *nudges him*!Just don’t forget you have a certain somebody always anxiously awaiting your return. *points at couch*

*a young eight year old girl quietly sleeping on the couch. She has flowing red hair and tiny goat horns on her head. Adam’s old jacket is being used as a cover*

Jacquelyn:She tried staying up all night because she knew you were coming home on Father’s Day. Poor little thing was out like a light as soon as it got dark.

Adam:*placing her on his chest and setting on the couch* Sounds about right.

Jacquelyn:Your “other daughter” came to visit today too.

Adam:Hehe, If you said that around her she’d deny it.

Jacquelyn:Well you helped raised her since you found her at six and she decided to visit today. She might not call you dad but that’s what you are to her. She wanted to let you know she’s officially in the boot camp to be apart of the shadow ops. She wants to work with you one day.

Adam:She’s gunning for my job. 14 and in boot camp. Sienna’s a tough girl; she’ll thrive in it.

Jacquelyn:Probably, I’m gonna go shower. Dinner is still on the stove of you want some *leaves*

Adam:......You’re wise awake aren’t you Jael?

*Adam looks down to see two bright blue eyes staring back at him*

Jael:Yep! I’m glad you’re home father. *hugs him* I missed you.

Adam:And I my desert rose, have missed you. Now that mommy is away, what’s so important you had to fake sleep.

Jael:*she would’ve made me help with dishes but then my hands would be all soft* I need them for those. *points to two fishing poles by the door*

Adam:You’ve been practicing?

Jael:I have! I think I finally out fish you this time. The hour timer is set up and everything.

Adam:Then what are we waiting for? *stands up and walks out the door with her in his arms*!You got the poles?

Jael:*Raises her hand*

*poles levitate and float to her*

Jael:Got em!

Adam:Alrighty then, to the fishing pond.

Jael:Huh? *looks at the door*

Jacquelyn:*waving and closes the door*

Jael:*smiles* let’s go.

[cedarrrun]

Here’s how one woman found lasting peace while floating on her belly down a wild river in Switzerland.

Finding peace along the Aare River in Switzerland.

Thousands of bare feet march on the paved and dirt paths along the Aare riverbank every summer in search of the perfect entry point into bright turquoise waters. The Aare River cuts through the heart of Bern, the well-groomed Swiss capital an hour’s train ride from Zurich. Last summer, I joined the hordes for a refreshing dip in the glacial melt coming from the Alps, despite having many nail-biting reservations. As peaceful and calming as the water looks and sounds, there’s no question I was entering a wild, unpredictable, fast-moving river with the sole purpose of letting myself get swept away. And in the past, getting “swept away” for me meant having to get rescued.

During a trip to New Zealand’s South Island with my sister in 2013, I naively trusted my white-water rafting guide (who, in hindsight, I believe was high) when he said it was safe to swim the rapids. I was the only one brave—or dumb—enough to body surf class III waves. I ended underneath our vessel, getting tossed around like gym socks in a washing machine. The guide assured the other six concerned passengers that he could feel me thrashing under the belly of the raft, and therefore, I was fine. I resurfaced unwounded but pale as a ghost, gasping for air, and covered in snot from forcefully trying to breathe.

See also A Surf Yoga Retreat Aimed at Helping You Find Creativity Is Exactly What You Need This Winter

On that same trip, there was a second incident that was just as dramatic. My sister and I capsized in three feet of freezing river water when our kayak hit a rock. Disoriented, frustrated, cold, and wet, I went after our runaway oar without thinking. My sister, Maria, yelled at me from shore, and by the time I turned to holler back, I realized I was chest-deep in a current so strong that I had no choice but to flip on my back (river safety rules 101) and helplessly float downriver until someone “saved” me. In this instance, I didn’t panic. Instead, I was so consumed with anger at both the river and my poor choices (ugh, not again) that I had a bitch face until I was fished out—maybe three minutes later—and for the rest of the day. Needless to say, in both instances, I walked away unhappy and slightly traumatized.

So, to just dive in to the Aare and intentionally get “taken” in the river—a mere five years after feeling so unsafe in wild waters—was terrifying. But I’m a Pisces, and I love being in water. So there was a big part of me ready to wash away my river angst for good.

Floating down the Aare River in Switzerland.

Finding My Flow

Around noon, I met my guide, Neda, who seemed much more reliable—and sober—than the one I met in New Zealand. I ate my nerves, devouring a plate of fries and warm goat cheese salad while I interrogated Neda about how this was going to work.You just jump in? Then what? Does someone pluck you out (like they did for me in New Zealand)? What’s the exit strategy? How cold is it? How deep is it? Have people drowned?

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She laughed and offered some insights, but not a lot. She assured me it would be fine and fun (I’d heard this before) and distracted me with intriguing facts about nearby BearPark, where a real-life version of the Berenstain Bears (mom, Bjork, dad, Finn, and daughter, Ursina) live in the city center. After lunch, we fed the adorable furry family whole watermelons, tossing four big ones over a glass wall (squat and press) with the permission and supervision of a zookeeper. My form was so strong (my trainer would be proud) that I felt secure in my body and ready for whatever comes next. Bravo, Neda, for getting me out of my own head and reminding me that I’m tough.

At 3:30 p.m., we meandered a short distance from BearPark to the Marzili pool, which is actually a lush, green lawn with changing stations, bathrooms, and, yes, a pool on the river’s edge. Half-naked bodies sunbathing, socializing, or eating ice cream from Gelateria di Berna covered the promenade, making it a perfect pseudo-beach on this 87-degree afternoon.

Carrying our belongings in our individual dry bags, which also serve as a float or lifesaver, we joined the bathing-suit-clad procession along the river to find our entry point. The longer you walk, the longer you float, Neda told me. Walk 20 minutes, drift for 10. As we walked and watched people begin their swim, it still hadn’t sunk in what was about to happen. There were no clear rules, signs, flags, or safety whistles. When I saw people cannonballing from an iron footbridge up ahead and Neda finally piped up about some of the dangers of what we were about to do, my fight-or-flight response kicked in.

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Facing fear and jumping into the Aare River.

Ready to take the plunge—literally

We found a short, unoccupied staircase with a red rail leading into the water and opted to take it. Neda sweetly held my hand as we began our total immersion into the 70-degree water. I wasn’t convinced I was making the right decision, especially since I still felt so uncertain about when and how I was going to get out. But the reason I was getting into this water was to change my negative narrative. So, into the water I went.

In seconds, the fast-flowing river had me in her grips, pushing me in the direction from whence I came. Neda instructed me to hug my float and frog-kick toward the middle of the river, where the water is deeper, so I’d be less likely to hit rocks. All of this was alarming, especially as the distance between Neda and I began to widen.

I found myself automatically reciting my Transcendental Meditation mantra. (And yes, I know I’m not supposed to use my sacred mantra in this way but I find this anchor helpful in grounding my thoughts in, well, ungrounding situations.)

Once Neda and I were side-by-side again, I noticed she was smiling and not moving much. She was just letting herself drift.

See also Beat Frustration (and Boost Patience!) with This Balancing Yoga Sequence

I wanted to do this, too, but was still fighting to work with the current, kicking to keep my body steady, streamlined, afloat, and, most importantly, near Neda. I looked around and saw that others—there were literally hundreds of people in the water with us, either ahead or behind, and only a few adjacent—had given in to the river’s hold, like Neda. I don’t know how to do this, I thought. I have to stay alert to avoid rocks, people, and missing my exit, right? I mean, I’d like to relax. I know that’s the point. But I’m still so much in my head and so scared of the unknown.

Seriously, I say to myself, how are we gonna get out?

To stave off panic, I closed my eyes for a minute and slowed my breathing, this time implementing meditation techniques as they were taught to me—minus the sitting comfortably on a cushion part. As my mantra worked its magic in the back of my mind, at the front, I told myself to be present and experience the thrill of the moment, as it would be short-lived and may not happen again. When I accepted my mind’s proposal to simply be present, I opened my eyes to fully soak up this experience. That’s when I saw what was really happening: We were all just bobbing ice cubes in this refreshing drink, melting away our stress on a stunning summer day.

Finally, I stopped trying to control my movements and let the river’s current take control.

Feeling weightless and free, I started smiling. I had no idea what would happen next, and yet, I felt calmer than ever. I flipped on my back to change perspectives and watched a few clouds moving faster than usual in the sky. I noticed some people riding inflatable tubes downriver, and others playing volleyball. I looked at my unmoving feet and wiggled my purple-painted toes like a curious baby. Last time I floated on my back like this I was waiting to be rescued in New Zealand. Now, I don’t want to be plucked out, I mused. I never want this to end.

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Neda entered my gaze, crossing behind me and making her way toward to the shoreline. She told me to follow, stay close, and keep my legs up, as the river gets shallower by the banks. I followed without thinking too much. The transition was so smooth: Neda extended her hand toward an upcoming red railing and effortlessly latch on. She pulled herself out of the way in time for me to latch on right after with total ease.

Letting go of control is one step closer to learning how to go with the flow.

The Aare fought to hold onto me a little longer and I was sad to get out. Then, I banged my knee on an underwater rock, expedited my exit, and we were back at Marzili “beach.”

I immediately begged Neda to float again. This time, we walked farther to gain a few extra minutes of floating. The second time is heavenly. I let myself completely go with no reservations. I kept my eyes wide open and needed no breathing exercise or mantra to channel my inner zen. I felt like I could do this for days. But with the sunset chasing us (maybe an hour and a half away), this would be our last swim, and I’d learned a sweet lesson I didn’t realize this river held for me.

Fact is, life will always force me to relinquish control here and there, and in these moments, I have to learn to wait—as calmly as possible—and see what happens. Sometimes, there’s literally nothing to do but just be. My only option in these instances is to not make the wait feel like purgatory. I have the tools to take care of myself so that I can face the wait with grace, and maybe even enjoy uncertainty just a little bit. And I can’t think of a more fitting, and even poetic, place to learn more about who I am than in a river called Aare.

See also 7 Poses for Enoughness

[chocolate-brownies]

How Floating Down a River Helped Me Learn How to Go With the Flow

How Floating Down a River Helped Me Learn How to Go With the Flow:

Here’s how one woman found lasting peace while floating on her belly down a wild river in Switzerland.

Finding peace along the Aare River in Switzerland.

Thousands of bare feet march on the paved and dirt paths along the Aare riverbank every summer in search of the perfect entry point into bright turquoise waters. The Aare River cuts through the heart of Bern, the well-groomed Swiss capital an hour’s train ride from Zurich. Last summer, I joined the hordes for a refreshing dip in the glacial melt coming from the Alps, despite having many nail-biting reservations. As peaceful and calming as the water looks and sounds, there’s no question I was entering a wild, unpredictable, fast-moving river with the sole purpose of letting myself get swept away. And in the past, getting “swept away” for me meant having to get rescued.

During a trip to New Zealand’s South Island with my sister in 2013, I naively trusted my white-water rafting guide (who, in hindsight, I believe was high) when he said it was safe to swim the rapids. I was the only one brave—or dumb—enough to body surf class III waves. I ended underneath our vessel, getting tossed around like gym socks in a washing machine. The guide assured the other six concerned passengers that he could feel me thrashing under the belly of the raft, and therefore, I was fine. I resurfaced unwounded but pale as a ghost, gasping for air, and covered in snot from forcefully trying to breathe.

See also A Surf Yoga Retreat Aimed at Helping You Find Creativity Is Exactly What You Need This Winter

On that same trip, there was a second incident that was just as dramatic. My sister and I capsized in three feet of freezing river water when our kayak hit a rock. Disoriented, frustrated, cold, and wet, I went after our runaway oar without thinking. My sister, Maria, yelled at me from shore, and by the time I turned to holler back, I realized I was chest-deep in a current so strong that I had no choice but to flip on my back (river safety rules 101) and helplessly float downriver until someone “saved” me. In this instance, I didn’t panic. Instead, I was so consumed with anger at both the river and my poor choices (ugh, not again) that I had a bitch face until I was fished out—maybe three minutes later—and for the rest of the day. Needless to say, in both instances, I walked away unhappy and slightly traumatized.

So, to just dive in to the Aare and intentionally get “taken” in the river—a mere five years after feeling so unsafe in wild waters—was terrifying. But I’m a Pisces, and I love being in water. So there was a big part of me ready to wash away my river angst for good.

Floating down the Aare River in Switzerland.

Finding My Flow

Around noon, I met my guide, Neda, who seemed much more reliable—and sober—than the one I met in New Zealand. I ate my nerves, devouring a plate of fries and warm goat cheese salad while I interrogated Neda about how this was going to work.You just jump in? Then what? Does someone pluck you out (like they did for me in New Zealand)? What’s the exit strategy? How cold is it? How deep is it? Have people drowned?

See also This Leadership Retreat Empowers Women Through Yoga

She laughed and offered some insights, but not a lot. She assured me it would be fine and fun (I’d heard this before) and distracted me with intriguing facts about nearby BearPark, where a real-life version of the Berenstain Bears (mom, Bjork, dad, Finn, and daughter, Ursina) live in the city center. After lunch, we fed the adorable furry family whole watermelons, tossing four big ones over a glass wall (squat and press) with the permission and supervision of a zookeeper. My form was so strong (my trainer would be proud) that I felt secure in my body and ready for whatever comes next. Bravo, Neda, for getting me out of my own head and reminding me that I’m tough.

At 3:30 p.m., we meandered a short distance from BearPark to the Marzili pool, which is actually a lush, green lawn with changing stations, bathrooms, and, yes, a pool on the river’s edge. Half-naked bodies sunbathing, socializing, or eating ice cream from Gelateria di Berna covered the promenade, making it a perfect pseudo-beach on this 87-degree afternoon.

Carrying our belongings in our individual dry bags, which also serve as a float or lifesaver, we joined the bathing-suit-clad procession along the river to find our entry point. The longer you walk, the longer you float, Neda told me. Walk 20 minutes, drift for 10. As we walked and watched people begin their swim, it still hadn’t sunk in what was about to happen. There were no clear rules, signs, flags, or safety whistles. When I saw people cannonballing from an iron footbridge up ahead and Neda finally piped up about some of the dangers of what we were about to do, my fight-or-flight response kicked in.

See also 6 Yoga Retreats to Help You Deal With Addiction

Facing fear and jumping into the Aare River.

Ready to take the plunge—literally

We found a short, unoccupied staircase with a red rail leading into the water and opted to take it. Neda sweetly held my hand as we began our total immersion into the 70-degree water. I wasn’t convinced I was making the right decision, especially since I still felt so uncertain about when and how I was going to get out. But the reason I was getting into this water was to change my negative narrative. So, into the water I went.

In seconds, the fast-flowing river had me in her grips, pushing me in the direction from whence I came. Neda instructed me to hug my float and frog-kick toward the middle of the river, where the water is deeper, so I’d be less likely to hit rocks. All of this was alarming, especially as the distance between Neda and I began to widen.

I found myself automatically reciting my Transcendental Meditation mantra. (And yes, I know I’m not supposed to use my sacred mantra in this way but I find this anchor helpful in grounding my thoughts in, well, ungrounding situations.)

Once Neda and I were side-by-side again, I noticed she was smiling and not moving much. She was just letting herself drift.

See also Beat Frustration (and Boost Patience!) with This Balancing Yoga Sequence

I wanted to do this, too, but was still fighting to work with the current, kicking to keep my body steady, streamlined, afloat, and, most importantly, near Neda. I looked around and saw that others—there were literally hundreds of people in the water with us, either ahead or behind, and only a few adjacent—had given in to the river’s hold, like Neda. I don’t know how to do this, I thought. I have to stay alert to avoid rocks, people, and missing my exit, right? I mean, I’d like to relax. I know that’s the point. But I’m still so much in my head and so scared of the unknown.

Seriously, I say to myself, how are we gonna get out?

To stave off panic, I closed my eyes for a minute and slowed my breathing, this time implementing meditation techniques as they were taught to me—minus the sitting comfortably on a cushion part. As my mantra worked its magic in the back of my mind, at the front, I told myself to be present and experience the thrill of the moment, as it would be short-lived and may not happen again. When I accepted my mind’s proposal to simply be present, I opened my eyes to fully soak up this experience. That’s when I saw what was really happening: We were all just bobbing ice cubes in this refreshing drink, melting away our stress on a stunning summer day.

Finally, I stopped trying to control my movements and let the river’s current take control.

Feeling weightless and free, I started smiling. I had no idea what would happen next, and yet, I felt calmer than ever. I flipped on my back to change perspectives and watched a few clouds moving faster than usual in the sky. I noticed some people riding inflatable tubes downriver, and others playing volleyball. I looked at my unmoving feet and wiggled my purple-painted toes like a curious baby. Last time I floated on my back like this I was waiting to be rescued in New Zealand. Now, I don’t want to be plucked out, I mused. I never want this to end.

See also Yoga for Inner Peace: A Stress-Relieving Sequence + Daily Practice Challenge

Neda entered my gaze, crossing behind me and making her way toward to the shoreline. She told me to follow, stay close, and keep my legs up, as the river gets shallower by the banks. I followed without thinking too much. The transition was so smooth: Neda extended her hand toward an upcoming red railing and effortlessly latch on. She pulled herself out of the way in time for me to latch on right after with total ease.

Letting go of control is one step closer to learning how to go with the flow.

The Aare fought to hold onto me a little longer and I was sad to get out. Then, I banged my knee on an underwater rock, expedited my exit, and we were back at Marzili “beach.”

I immediately begged Neda to float again. This time, we walked farther to gain a few extra minutes of floating. The second time is heavenly. I let myself completely go with no reservations. I kept my eyes wide open and needed no breathing exercise or mantra to channel my inner zen. I felt like I could do this for days. But with the sunset chasing us (maybe an hour and a half away), this would be our last swim, and I’d learned a sweet lesson I didn’t realize this river held for me.

Fact is, life will always force me to relinquish control here and there, and in these moments, I have to learn to wait—as calmly as possible—and see what happens. Sometimes, there’s literally nothing to do but just be. My only option in these instances is to not make the wait feel like purgatory. I have the tools to take care of myself so that I can face the wait with grace, and maybe even enjoy uncertainty just a little bit. And I can’t think of a more fitting, and even poetic, place to learn more about who I am than in a river called Aare.

See also 7 Poses for Enoughness

[krisiunicornio]

Here’s how one woman found lasting peace while floating on her belly down a wild river in Switzerland.

Finding peace along the Aare River in Switzerland.

Thousands of bare feet march on the paved and dirt paths along the Aare riverbank every summer in search of the perfect entry point into bright turquoise waters. The Aare River cuts through the heart of Bern, the well-groomed Swiss capital an hour’s train ride from Zurich. Last summer, I joined the hordes for a refreshing dip in the glacial melt coming from the Alps, despite having many nail-biting reservations. As peaceful and calming as the water looks and sounds, there’s no question I was entering a wild, unpredictable, fast-moving river with the sole purpose of letting myself get swept away. And in the past, getting “swept away” for me meant having to get rescued.

During a trip to New Zealand’s South Island with my sister in 2013, I naively trusted my white-water rafting guide (who, in hindsight, I believe was high) when he said it was safe to swim the rapids. I was the only one brave—or dumb—enough to body surf class III waves. I ended underneath our vessel, getting tossed around like gym socks in a washing machine. The guide assured the other six concerned passengers that he could feel me thrashing under the belly of the raft, and therefore, I was fine. I resurfaced unwounded but pale as a ghost, gasping for air, and covered in snot from forcefully trying to breathe.

See also A Surf Yoga Retreat Aimed at Helping You Find Creativity Is Exactly What You Need This Winter

On that same trip, there was a second incident that was just as dramatic. My sister and I capsized in three feet of freezing river water when our kayak hit a rock. Disoriented, frustrated, cold, and wet, I went after our runaway oar without thinking. My sister, Maria, yelled at me from shore, and by the time I turned to holler back, I realized I was chest-deep in a current so strong that I had no choice but to flip on my back (river safety rules 101) and helplessly float downriver until someone “saved” me. In this instance, I didn’t panic. Instead, I was so consumed with anger at both the river and my poor choices (ugh, not again) that I had a bitch face until I was fished out—maybe three minutes later—and for the rest of the day. Needless to say, in both instances, I walked away unhappy and slightly traumatized.

So, to just dive in to the Aare and intentionally get “taken” in the river—a mere five years after feeling so unsafe in wild waters—was terrifying. But I’m a Pisces, and I love being in water. So there was a big part of me ready to wash away my river angst for good.

Floating down the Aare River in Switzerland.

Finding My Flow

Around noon, I met my guide, Neda, who seemed much more reliable—and sober—than the one I met in New Zealand. I ate my nerves, devouring a plate of fries and warm goat cheese salad while I interrogated Neda about how this was going to work.You just jump in? Then what? Does someone pluck you out (like they did for me in New Zealand)? What’s the exit strategy? How cold is it? How deep is it? Have people drowned?

See also This Leadership Retreat Empowers Women Through Yoga

She laughed and offered some insights, but not a lot. She assured me it would be fine and fun (I’d heard this before) and distracted me with intriguing facts about nearby BearPark, where a real-life version of the Berenstain Bears (mom, Bjork, dad, Finn, and daughter, Ursina) live in the city center. After lunch, we fed the adorable furry family whole watermelons, tossing four big ones over a glass wall (squat and press) with the permission and supervision of a zookeeper. My form was so strong (my trainer would be proud) that I felt secure in my body and ready for whatever comes next. Bravo, Neda, for getting me out of my own head and reminding me that I’m tough.

At 3:30 p.m., we meandered a short distance from BearPark to the Marzili pool, which is actually a lush, green lawn with changing stations, bathrooms, and, yes, a pool on the river’s edge. Half-naked bodies sunbathing, socializing, or eating ice cream from Gelateria di Berna covered the promenade, making it a perfect pseudo-beach on this 87-degree afternoon.

Carrying our belongings in our individual dry bags, which also serve as a float or lifesaver, we joined the bathing-suit-clad procession along the river to find our entry point. The longer you walk, the longer you float, Neda told me. Walk 20 minutes, drift for 10. As we walked and watched people begin their swim, it still hadn’t sunk in what was about to happen. There were no clear rules, signs, flags, or safety whistles. When I saw people cannonballing from an iron footbridge up ahead and Neda finally piped up about some of the dangers of what we were about to do, my fight-or-flight response kicked in.

See also 6 Yoga Retreats to Help You Deal With Addiction

Facing fear and jumping into the Aare River.

Ready to take the plunge—literally

We found a short, unoccupied staircase with a red rail leading into the water and opted to take it. Neda sweetly held my hand as we began our total immersion into the 70-degree water. I wasn’t convinced I was making the right decision, especially since I still felt so uncertain about when and how I was going to get out. But the reason I was getting into this water was to change my negative narrative. So, into the water I went.

In seconds, the fast-flowing river had me in her grips, pushing me in the direction from whence I came. Neda instructed me to hug my float and frog-kick toward the middle of the river, where the water is deeper, so I’d be less likely to hit rocks. All of this was alarming, especially as the distance between Neda and I began to widen.

I found myself automatically reciting my Transcendental Meditation mantra. (And yes, I know I’m not supposed to use my sacred mantra in this way but I find this anchor helpful in grounding my thoughts in, well, ungrounding situations.)

Once Neda and I were side-by-side again, I noticed she was smiling and not moving much. She was just letting herself drift.

See also Beat Frustration (and Boost Patience!) with This Balancing Yoga Sequence

I wanted to do this, too, but was still fighting to work with the current, kicking to keep my body steady, streamlined, afloat, and, most importantly, near Neda. I looked around and saw that others—there were literally hundreds of people in the water with us, either ahead or behind, and only a few adjacent—had given in to the river’s hold, like Neda. I don’t know how to do this, I thought. I have to stay alert to avoid rocks, people, and missing my exit, right? I mean, I’d like to relax. I know that’s the point. But I’m still so much in my head and so scared of the unknown.

Seriously, I say to myself, how are we gonna get out?

To stave off panic, I closed my eyes for a minute and slowed my breathing, this time implementing meditation techniques as they were taught to me—minus the sitting comfortably on a cushion part. As my mantra worked its magic in the back of my mind, at the front, I told myself to be present and experience the thrill of the moment, as it would be short-lived and may not happen again. When I accepted my mind’s proposal to simply be present, I opened my eyes to fully soak up this experience. That’s when I saw what was really happening: We were all just bobbing ice cubes in this refreshing drink, melting away our stress on a stunning summer day.

Finally, I stopped trying to control my movements and let the river’s current take control.

Feeling weightless and free, I started smiling. I had no idea what would happen next, and yet, I felt calmer than ever. I flipped on my back to change perspectives and watched a few clouds moving faster than usual in the sky. I noticed some people riding inflatable tubes downriver, and others playing volleyball. I looked at my unmoving feet and wiggled my purple-painted toes like a curious baby. Last time I floated on my back like this I was waiting to be rescued in New Zealand. Now, I don’t want to be plucked out, I mused. I never want this to end.

See also Yoga for Inner Peace: A Stress-Relieving Sequence + Daily Practice Challenge

Neda entered my gaze, crossing behind me and making her way toward to the shoreline. She told me to follow, stay close, and keep my legs up, as the river gets shallower by the banks. I followed without thinking too much. The transition was so smooth: Neda extended her hand toward an upcoming red railing and effortlessly latch on. She pulled herself out of the way in time for me to latch on right after with total ease.

Letting go of control is one step closer to learning how to go with the flow.

The Aare fought to hold onto me a little longer and I was sad to get out. Then, I banged my knee on an underwater rock, expedited my exit, and we were back at Marzili “beach.”

I immediately begged Neda to float again. This time, we walked farther to gain a few extra minutes of floating. The second time is heavenly. I let myself completely go with no reservations. I kept my eyes wide open and needed no breathing exercise or mantra to channel my inner zen. I felt like I could do this for days. But with the sunset chasing us (maybe an hour and a half away), this would be our last swim, and I’d learned a sweet lesson I didn’t realize this river held for me.

Fact is, life will always force me to relinquish control here and there, and in these moments, I have to learn to wait—as calmly as possible—and see what happens. Sometimes, there’s literally nothing to do but just be. My only option in these instances is to not make the wait feel like purgatory. I have the tools to take care of myself so that I can face the wait with grace, and maybe even enjoy uncertainty just a little bit. And I can’t think of a more fitting, and even poetic, place to learn more about who I am than in a river called Aare.

See also 7 Poses for Enoughness

[remedialmassage]

How Floating Down a River Helped Me Learn How to Go With the Flow

Here’s how one woman found lasting peace while floating on her belly down a wild river in Switzerland.

Finding peace along the Aare River in Switzerland.

Thousands of bare feet march on the paved and dirt paths along the Aare riverbank every summer in search of the perfect entry point into bright turquoise waters. The Aare River cuts through the heart of Bern, the well-groomed Swiss capital an hour’s train ride from Zurich. Last summer, I joined the hordes for a refreshing dip in the glacial melt coming from the Alps, despite having many nail-biting reservations. As peaceful and calming as the water looks and sounds, there’s no question I was entering a wild, unpredictable, fast-moving river with the sole purpose of letting myself get swept away. And in the past, getting “swept away” for me meant having to get rescued.

During a trip to New Zealand’s South Island with my sister in 2013, I naively trusted my white-water rafting guide (who, in hindsight, I believe was high) when he said it was safe to swim the rapids. I was the only one brave—or dumb—enough to body surf class III waves. I ended underneath our vessel, getting tossed around like gym socks in a washing machine. The guide assured the other six concerned passengers that he could feel me thrashing under the belly of the raft, and therefore, I was fine. I resurfaced unwounded but pale as a ghost, gasping for air, and covered in snot from forcefully trying to breathe.

See also A Surf Yoga Retreat Aimed at Helping You Find Creativity Is Exactly What You Need This Winter

On that same trip, there was a second incident that was just as dramatic. My sister and I capsized in three feet of freezing river water when our kayak hit a rock. Disoriented, frustrated, cold, and wet, I went after our runaway oar without thinking. My sister, Maria, yelled at me from shore, and by the time I turned to holler back, I realized I was chest-deep in a current so strong that I had no choice but to flip on my back (river safety rules 101) and helplessly float downriver until someone “saved” me. In this instance, I didn’t panic. Instead, I was so consumed with anger at both the river and my poor choices (ugh, not again) that I had a bitch face until I was fished out—maybe three minutes later—and for the rest of the day. Needless to say, in both instances, I walked away unhappy and slightly traumatized.

So, to just dive in to the Aare and intentionally get “taken” in the river—a mere five years after feeling so unsafe in wild waters—was terrifying. But I’m a Pisces, and I love being in water. So there was a big part of me ready to wash away my river angst for good.

Floating down the Aare River in Switzerland.

Finding My Flow

Around noon, I met my guide, Neda, who seemed much more reliable—and sober—than the one I met in New Zealand. I ate my nerves, devouring a plate of fries and warm goat cheese salad while I interrogated Neda about how this was going to work.You just jump in? Then what? Does someone pluck you out (like they did for me in New Zealand)? What’s the exit strategy? How cold is it? How deep is it? Have people drowned?

See also This Leadership Retreat Empowers Women Through Yoga

She laughed and offered some insights, but not a lot. She assured me it would be fine and fun (I’d heard this before) and distracted me with intriguing facts about nearby BearPark, where a real-life version of the Berenstain Bears (mom, Bjork, dad, Finn, and daughter, Ursina) live in the city center. After lunch, we fed the adorable furry family whole watermelons, tossing four big ones over a glass wall (squat and press) with the permission and supervision of a zookeeper. My form was so strong (my trainer would be proud) that I felt secure in my body and ready for whatever comes next. Bravo, Neda, for getting me out of my own head and reminding me that I’m tough.

At 3:30 p.m., we meandered a short distance from BearPark to the Marzili pool, which is actually a lush, green lawn with changing stations, bathrooms, and, yes, a pool on the river’s edge. Half-naked bodies sunbathing, socializing, or eating ice cream from Gelateria di Berna covered the promenade, making it a perfect pseudo-beach on this 87-degree afternoon.

Carrying our belongings in our individual dry bags, which also serve as a float or lifesaver, we joined the bathing-suit-clad procession along the river to find our entry point. The longer you walk, the longer you float, Neda told me. Walk 20 minutes, drift for 10. As we walked and watched people begin their swim, it still hadn’t sunk in what was about to happen. There were no clear rules, signs, flags, or safety whistles. When I saw people cannonballing from an iron footbridge up ahead and Neda finally piped up about some of the dangers of what we were about to do, my fight-or-flight response kicked in.

See also 6 Yoga Retreats to Help You Deal With Addiction

Facing fear and jumping into the Aare River.

Ready to take the plunge—literally

We found a short, unoccupied staircase with a red rail leading into the water and opted to take it. Neda sweetly held my hand as we began our total immersion into the 70-degree water. I wasn’t convinced I was making the right decision, especially since I still felt so uncertain about when and how I was going to get out. But the reason I was getting into this water was to change my negative narrative. So, into the water I went.

In seconds, the fast-flowing river had me in her grips, pushing me in the direction from whence I came. Neda instructed me to hug my float and frog-kick toward the middle of the river, where the water is deeper, so I’d be less likely to hit rocks. All of this was alarming, especially as the distance between Neda and I began to widen.

I found myself automatically reciting my Transcendental Meditation mantra. (And yes, I know I’m not supposed to use my sacred mantra in this way but I find this anchor helpful in grounding my thoughts in, well, ungrounding situations.)

Once Neda and I were side-by-side again, I noticed she was smiling and not moving much. She was just letting herself drift.

See also Beat Frustration (and Boost Patience!) with This Balancing Yoga Sequence

I wanted to do this, too, but was still fighting to work with the current, kicking to keep my body steady, streamlined, afloat, and, most importantly, near Neda. I looked around and saw that others—there were literally hundreds of people in the water with us, either ahead or behind, and only a few adjacent—had given in to the river’s hold, like Neda. I don’t know how to do this, I thought. I have to stay alert to avoid rocks, people, and missing my exit, right? I mean, I’d like to relax. I know that’s the point. But I’m still so much in my head and so scared of the unknown.

Seriously, I say to myself, how are we gonna get out?

To stave off panic, I closed my eyes for a minute and slowed my breathing, this time implementing meditation techniques as they were taught to me—minus the sitting comfortably on a cushion part. As my mantra worked its magic in the back of my mind, at the front, I told myself to be present and experience the thrill of the moment, as it would be short-lived and may not happen again. When I accepted my mind’s proposal to simply be present, I opened my eyes to fully soak up this experience. That’s when I saw what was really happening: We were all just bobbing ice cubes in this refreshing drink, melting away our stress on a stunning summer day.

Finally, I stopped trying to control my movements and let the river’s current take control.

Feeling weightless and free, I started smiling. I had no idea what would happen next, and yet, I felt calmer than ever. I flipped on my back to change perspectives and watched a few clouds moving faster than usual in the sky. I noticed some people riding inflatable tubes downriver, and others playing volleyball. I looked at my unmoving feet and wiggled my purple-painted toes like a curious baby. Last time I floated on my back like this I was waiting to be rescued in New Zealand. Now, I don’t want to be plucked out, I mused. I never want this to end.

See also Yoga for Inner Peace: A Stress-Relieving Sequence + Daily Practice Challenge

Neda entered my gaze, crossing behind me and making her way toward to the shoreline. She told me to follow, stay close, and keep my legs up, as the river gets shallower by the banks. I followed without thinking too much. The transition was so smooth: Neda extended her hand toward an upcoming red railing and effortlessly latch on. She pulled herself out of the way in time for me to latch on right after with total ease.

Letting go of control is one step closer to learning how to go with the flow.

The Aare fought to hold onto me a little longer and I was sad to get out. Then, I banged my knee on an underwater rock, expedited my exit, and we were back at Marzili “beach.”

I immediately begged Neda to float again. This time, we walked farther to gain a few extra minutes of floating. The second time is heavenly. I let myself completely go with no reservations. I kept my eyes wide open and needed no breathing exercise or mantra to channel my inner zen. I felt like I could do this for days. But with the sunset chasing us (maybe an hour and a half away), this would be our last swim, and I’d learned a sweet lesson I didn’t realize this river held for me.

Fact is, life will always force me to relinquish control here and there, and in these moments, I have to learn to wait—as calmly as possible—and see what happens. Sometimes, there’s literally nothing to do but just be. My only option in these instances is to not make the wait feel like purgatory. I have the tools to take care of myself so that I can face the wait with grace, and maybe even enjoy uncertainty just a little bit. And I can’t think of a more fitting, and even poetic, place to learn more about who I am than in a river called Aare.

See also 7 Poses for Enoughness

from Yoga Journal http://bit.ly/2B4JxEj

[amyddaniels]

How Floating Down a River Helped Me Learn How to Go With the Flow

Here’s how one woman found lasting peace while floating on her belly down a wild river in Switzerland.

Finding peace along the Aare River in Switzerland.

Thousands of bare feet march on the paved and dirt paths along the Aare riverbank every summer in search of the perfect entry point into bright turquoise waters. The Aare River cuts through the heart of Bern, the well-groomed Swiss capital an hour’s train ride from Zurich. Last summer, I joined the hordes for a refreshing dip in the glacial melt coming from the Alps, despite having many nail-biting reservations. As peaceful and calming as the water looks and sounds, there’s no question I was entering a wild, unpredictable, fast-moving river with the sole purpose of letting myself get swept away. And in the past, getting “swept away” for me meant having to get rescued.

During a trip to New Zealand’s South Island with my sister in 2013, I naively trusted my white-water rafting guide (who, in hindsight, I believe was high) when he said it was safe to swim the rapids. I was the only one brave—or dumb—enough to body surf class III waves. I ended underneath our vessel, getting tossed around like gym socks in a washing machine. The guide assured the other six concerned passengers that he could feel me thrashing under the belly of the raft, and therefore, I was fine. I resurfaced unwounded but pale as a ghost, gasping for air, and covered in snot from forcefully trying to breathe.

See also A Surf Yoga Retreat Aimed at Helping You Find Creativity Is Exactly What You Need This Winter

On that same trip, there was a second incident that was just as dramatic. My sister and I capsized in three feet of freezing river water when our kayak hit a rock. Disoriented, frustrated, cold, and wet, I went after our runaway oar without thinking. My sister, Maria, yelled at me from shore, and by the time I turned to holler back, I realized I was chest-deep in a current so strong that I had no choice but to flip on my back (river safety rules 101) and helplessly float downriver until someone “saved” me. In this instance, I didn’t panic. Instead, I was so consumed with anger at both the river and my poor choices (ugh, not again) that I had a bitch face until I was fished out—maybe three minutes later—and for the rest of the day. Needless to say, in both instances, I walked away unhappy and slightly traumatized.

So, to just dive in to the Aare and intentionally get “taken” in the river—a mere five years after feeling so unsafe in wild waters—was terrifying. But I’m a Pisces, and I love being in water. So there was a big part of me ready to wash away my river angst for good.

Floating down the Aare River in Switzerland.

Finding My Flow

Around noon, I met my guide, Neda, who seemed much more reliable—and sober—than the one I met in New Zealand. I ate my nerves, devouring a plate of fries and warm goat cheese salad while I interrogated Neda about how this was going to work.You just jump in? Then what? Does someone pluck you out (like they did for me in New Zealand)? What’s the exit strategy? How cold is it? How deep is it? Have people drowned?

See also This Leadership Retreat Empowers Women Through Yoga

She laughed and offered some insights, but not a lot. She assured me it would be fine and fun (I’d heard this before) and distracted me with intriguing facts about nearby BearPark, where a real-life version of the Berenstain Bears (mom, Bjork, dad, Finn, and daughter, Ursina) live in the city center. After lunch, we fed the adorable furry family whole watermelons, tossing four big ones over a glass wall (squat and press) with the permission and supervision of a zookeeper. My form was so strong (my trainer would be proud) that I felt secure in my body and ready for whatever comes next. Bravo, Neda, for getting me out of my own head and reminding me that I’m tough.

At 3:30 p.m., we meandered a short distance from BearPark to the Marzili pool, which is actually a lush, green lawn with changing stations, bathrooms, and, yes, a pool on the river’s edge. Half-naked bodies sunbathing, socializing, or eating ice cream from Gelateria di Berna covered the promenade, making it a perfect pseudo-beach on this 87-degree afternoon.

Carrying our belongings in our individual dry bags, which also serve as a float or lifesaver, we joined the bathing-suit-clad procession along the river to find our entry point. The longer you walk, the longer you float, Neda told me. Walk 20 minutes, drift for 10. As we walked and watched people begin their swim, it still hadn’t sunk in what was about to happen. There were no clear rules, signs, flags, or safety whistles. When I saw people cannonballing from an iron footbridge up ahead and Neda finally piped up about some of the dangers of what we were about to do, my fight-or-flight response kicked in.

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Facing fear and jumping into the Aare River.

Ready to take the plunge—literally

We found a short, unoccupied staircase with a red rail leading into the water and opted to take it. Neda sweetly held my hand as we began our total immersion into the 70-degree water. I wasn’t convinced I was making the right decision, especially since I still felt so uncertain about when and how I was going to get out. But the reason I was getting into this water was to change my negative narrative. So, into the water I went.

In seconds, the fast-flowing river had me in her grips, pushing me in the direction from whence I came. Neda instructed me to hug my float and frog-kick toward the middle of the river, where the water is deeper, so I’d be less likely to hit rocks. All of this was alarming, especially as the distance between Neda and I began to widen.

I found myself automatically reciting my Transcendental Meditation mantra. (And yes, I know I’m not supposed to use my sacred mantra in this way but I find this anchor helpful in grounding my thoughts in, well, ungrounding situations.)

Once Neda and I were side-by-side again, I noticed she was smiling and not moving much. She was just letting herself drift.

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I wanted to do this, too, but was still fighting to work with the current, kicking to keep my body steady, streamlined, afloat, and, most importantly, near Neda. I looked around and saw that others—there were literally hundreds of people in the water with us, either ahead or behind, and only a few adjacent—had given in to the river’s hold, like Neda. I don’t know how to do this, I thought. I have to stay alert to avoid rocks, people, and missing my exit, right? I mean, I’d like to relax. I know that’s the point. But I’m still so much in my head and so scared of the unknown.

Seriously, I say to myself, how are we gonna get out?

To stave off panic, I closed my eyes for a minute and slowed my breathing, this time implementing meditation techniques as they were taught to me—minus the sitting comfortably on a cushion part. As my mantra worked its magic in the back of my mind, at the front, I told myself to be present and experience the thrill of the moment, as it would be short-lived and may not happen again. When I accepted my mind’s proposal to simply be present, I opened my eyes to fully soak up this experience. That’s when I saw what was really happening: We were all just bobbing ice cubes in this refreshing drink, melting away our stress on a stunning summer day.

Finally, I stopped trying to control my movements and let the river’s current take control.

Feeling weightless and free, I started smiling. I had no idea what would happen next, and yet, I felt calmer than ever. I flipped on my back to change perspectives and watched a few clouds moving faster than usual in the sky. I noticed some people riding inflatable tubes downriver, and others playing volleyball. I looked at my unmoving feet and wiggled my purple-painted toes like a curious baby. Last time I floated on my back like this I was waiting to be rescued in New Zealand. Now, I don’t want to be plucked out, I mused. I never want this to end.

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Neda entered my gaze, crossing behind me and making her way toward to the shoreline. She told me to follow, stay close, and keep my legs up, as the river gets shallower by the banks. I followed without thinking too much. The transition was so smooth: Neda extended her hand toward an upcoming red railing and effortlessly latch on. She pulled herself out of the way in time for me to latch on right after with total ease.

Letting go of control is one step closer to learning how to go with the flow.

The Aare fought to hold onto me a little longer and I was sad to get out. Then, I banged my knee on an underwater rock, expedited my exit, and we were back at Marzili “beach.”

I immediately begged Neda to float again. This time, we walked farther to gain a few extra minutes of floating. The second time is heavenly. I let myself completely go with no reservations. I kept my eyes wide open and needed no breathing exercise or mantra to channel my inner zen. I felt like I could do this for days. But with the sunset chasing us (maybe an hour and a half away), this would be our last swim, and I’d learned a sweet lesson I didn’t realize this river held for me.

Fact is, life will always force me to relinquish control here and there, and in these moments, I have to learn to wait—as calmly as possible—and see what happens. Sometimes, there’s literally nothing to do but just be. My only option in these instances is to not make the wait feel like purgatory. I have the tools to take care of myself so that I can face the wait with grace, and maybe even enjoy uncertainty just a little bit. And I can’t think of a more fitting, and even poetic, place to learn more about who I am than in a river called Aare.

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