Eddy Out
While browsing in Dudley’s Bookshop Cafe in Bend, Oregon, in the fall of 2017, I discovered a publication I had never seen before: Adventure Journal. The cover photo featuring mountain bikers traversing a twisting trail through a golden aspen forest initially captured my attention; the prose within the pages of Issue 06 held it. On future visits to Bend, I made it a point to return to Dudley’s to acquire the latest issue of this quarterly periodical. After regular trips to Oregon ceased, I became a subscriber. (You should, too!)
An article in Issue 06 impacted my future in ways I could not have imagined on the day when I purchased the journal at Dudley’s. “Eddy Out,” written by Jeff Moag, explores the etymology of the phrase and its metaphorical implications. I was unfamiliar with this river-running term, since I would not begin regularly paddling until the summer of 2020, when my husband and I made our sanity-sustaining pandemic purchase of kayaks.
Moag traces the etymology of “eddy” to the combination of the Old English prefix ed- (return) with eá (water). By the 15th century, edeá had morphed into eddy, with a meaning familiar to modern whitewater enthusiasts: a current of water running counter to the mainstream, particularly one that flows in a circular pattern. In the broadest sense, an eddy is a refuge where a paddler can escape the current while scouting out the whitewater hazards downstream. To “eddy out” is to seek shelter, to press pause temporarily, to reassess and rest before returning to the current.
The following summer, I began to strongly sense the need to eddy out. My body, mind, and spirit were giving me clear signals that I needed to exit the current and regroup. I recognized that my tenure as an associate pastor was drawing to a close. I needed clarity, however, to discern when to eddy out.
While recently reading Emily P. Freeman’s new book How to Walk into a Room: The Art of Knowing When to Stay and When to Walk Away, I wished that this insightful resource had been available in the summer of 2018. “The Ten Questions” she poses are invaluable if you are considering making a change. Reading her thought-provoking questions made me realize how much I would have benefitted from having a spiritual companion to journey with me as I pondered my options that summer.
Freeman notes that whenever we face an ending, the tension between readiness and timeliness should be explored as we discern next steps. In my situation, I came to the conclusion that although I was ready to eddy out, it was not yet time. I had unfinished business; I also wanted to leave well. Privately, I set a date to eddy out the following summer.
Having read Edwin H. Friedman’s classic book Generation to Generation: Family Practice in Church and Synagogue, I wanted to develop an intentional strategy of separation from my congregational family. I suspected that the announcement of my departure after nearly a decade of service would raise eyebrows, since I was not leaving this position to take another one. If I had accepted a senior pastor position in another church, I believe that the congregation’s sense of loss would have been somewhat offset by their pride in the fact that I was moving up in the ecclesiastical world. If I had announced that my husband and I were moving cross-country to live near our only child and his wife, they would have regretted but understood my departure. To leave without having another position lined up - well, that news would be harder to digest.
Five years ago this summer, timeliness and readiness converged, and I eddied out. Preaching on my final Sunday at the church, I felt at peace. Jeff Moag observed in his article, “It’s satisfying to slot into an eddy just as planned . . . It’s an intoxicating sensation, to be in control and safe, if only for a moment, amid the limitless, chaotic power of a river running downhill fast.” I knew that would eventually be reentering the current, but I was grateful for a sheltered time of rest when I could circle back to reflect and reassess.
Among the restorative strategies I had planned for my time in the eddy was a cross-country road trip from Nashville to Denver to attend Evolving Faith. Looking back, I realize how that event itself was a spiritual refuge that helped to equip me to reenter the current sooner than I had anticipated. An opportunity arose to become the chaplain at an addiction treatment center for women. I returned to Nashville spiritually recharged, ready to go with the flow.
Five months later, the world was forever changed by a global pandemic. In those frightening days, I was riding unfamiliar rapids - we all were. Because I had eddied out at the right time the previous summer, though, I was able to navigate the churning current of COVID-19, better equipped and well grounded.
Even though I stick to Class I and II rapids while paddling, I have experienced the value of eddying out. Kayakers have died on the generally slow-flowing Duck River in Tennessee when their boats have capsized beneath downed trees or exposed root balls, leaving them pinned underwater.
On a summer day, as my husband and I paddled down the Duck, we spied an obstacle in the distance. A sycamore tree had fallen across the river; debris was trapped in its branches. We eddied out, paddling into a pool of calm water where we could carefully consider our options. Because this section of the Duck was narrow, the tree spanned the width of the channel. Portaging our boats was not an option - there was no accessible route along the riverbank.
After assessing the array of hazards, we realized we had one choice: paddle underneath a section of the horizontal trunk where the river was flowing unobstructed. We cautiously returned to the current, taking turns ducking on the Duck, our heads scraping against the sycamore’s mottled bark. Relieved and jubilant, we sat up straight and resumed paddling. Adventures awaited us downstream.
Invitation to wonder: When have you chosen to eddy out? How did you arrive at your decision?
