The Flow of Intention

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What I took from the deer and fish was less heady. I couldn't say at first why their relation to the river moved me so much, but there was something profound in their unselfconscious grace as they moved within it. Upon reflection, I see that the deer exemplifies the fact that it is generally more efficient to go with the flow. But the salmon's swim upstream reminds me that following a deep instinct or calling often involves struggle and sacrifice.

The thought stayed with me as we traveled downstream, stopping for a hike to a huge stone amphitheater marked with petrogylphs, a place known as Veil Falls where a stream of water from a spring fell down through the air, each drop distinct and hypnotic. Jesse, 21, a third-generation river guide, called it his favorite place on the river. It once had been a stronghold of the Sheepeater Indians, he said, before they became the last of the region's native peoples to be forced onto a reservation. We all felt something sacred in the play of the water weaving among us as we stood below in clouds of spray that danced up into the clear blue sky.

On our last night, in the heart of a great oval canyon ringed by moon shadows, we sat in a circle and talked about our journey together. A dear friend I've known for half my life spoke up, asking the others to do what amounted to a bit of intending on his behalf. Richard is a New York City boy to the bone, with degrees in both business and law, and he can often be found juggling two phones, a laptop, and a Blackberry.

"Think of me as Richard Salmon River, or Richard Middle Fork," he said. He wanted the group to picture him in the elemental power of the river, to help him keep in touch with the parts of himself that he tends to lose track of in the busy, concrete urban world.

Nice try. Later that night, I blurted out that I couldn't think of him that way; it just seemed too pompous. But I did promise to think of him as Richard Ducky, bobbling along in a little inflatable boat, paddle held aloft, wet and triumphant. I assured him it was a more powerful image, given the added juice of laughter and a dash of the absurd.

Michael, 19, had a question: "Do you really believe that you can send each other energy?"

"Absolutely," we said.

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