“The Pinch Point”
Last weekend, Spencer, Rudder and I returned back to civilization after 8 days in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. This year we felt especially eager to get in, to clear our minds from the every day clutter of being alive in our modern world, but also because it had been a year since we’d been there last. We normally try to go at least twice but had to cancel our 2025 fall trip last minute because of an injury I had sustained that still needed healing.
There is something extra sweet about dipping our paddles into those pristine lakes this time of year. The land and waters are just waking from a winter slumber and the landscape is sprayed with a bright verdant glow.
Portage paths are teeming with life and trout and walleye are abundant — it’s my personal mission to pull the biggest lake trout into the boat and I succeeded once again this year 😜
On the flip side, our spring trips tend to be more dynamic than the trips we have taken in August or September. The water is still extremely brisk, the bugs begin to hatch and thus swarm and bite — beware the black fly, I received a bite near my eye and woke the first morning of our voyage to find it had completely swollen shut, I looked like I’d gotten in a bar fight and lost for a few days — the weather seems to change constantly, the sun blazing on our fresh winter skin one moment, then a quick and feisty thunderstorm blowing our canoe eight feet off the ground the next — it survived and we were able to secure it shortly afterward.
There is a phrase that Spencer and I have coined on our trips that we refer to as, “the pinch point.” A phenomenon that occurs on a particularly gusty day when the headwind is strong and you come around the corner of a point or a space in the lake where the land narrows in on us.
The wind intensifies and we both dig our paddles in. Long, strong strokes, vigilance, and deep breaths. When approaching said pinch point, I whisper to myself “dig in, baby.” I keep my biceps and shoulders strong, careful not to overextend. Last Saturday on our way up the Little Indian Sioux River on a very long trek back to entry point 14, I repeated a version of this phrase over and over, around every bend. My stamina waned after 8 hours of paddling up river in strong headwind, but it’s nothing when you know there is a fat, juicy cheeseburger at the Boathouse in Ely waiting for you at the end.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot. Because this “pinch point” phenomenon is the way of nature, isn’t it? Resistance always intensifies before the contraction. When you know another wave of pain or difficulty is coming, it’s the anticipation itself that causes us to steel ourselves against it, bracing for impact. Resistance is natural. Water both rolls around rocks and moves the earth out of its way. We either withstand force or we surrender to it.
Of course, there is a reason I’m going on about all of this. I’ve mentioned in previous newsletters that I am in the process of doing a great reassessment of my life. Of the way I spend my energy, the way I run my businesses, the way I show up in this world. I want to better care for myself and live my life in a way that feels healthier and truer to me.
And so, I am in this space of clearing out the superfluous fluff that is weighing me down, and this process is requiring me to focus on ridding myself of things that have come to matter much more than they need to. Like buying so many prints and cards rather than just focusing on making more art. Or worrying about doing more and more art festivals and intensifying the pressure on myself to sell and then make as many paintings as I can. The past year has shown me with startling clarity the preciousness of my energy and the importance of directing it in a way that brings life rather than taking it.
Our little family is also in the midst of some big shifts. Ones I am not quite ready to disclose yet, but we are finding ourselves in a point where we look at each other daily, both knowing our world is about to change yet having absolutely no idea what that may look like. It’s murky, it is an uncomfortable place to be, but we can’t be anywhere but here.
We’re at our own little pinch point. I am feeling the resistance greatly. I have moments where I see this new way appearing behind the lids of my eyes and I am mesmerized by the sparkle of it taking shape — the mystery, and the nuance. In other moments, I feel like I am gritting my teeth, bracing for a 50 mph gust to smack the tip of our canoe sideways.
Mama Nature has taught me over and over again that you can’t have summer heat without bugs, I can’t have canoe trips without wind, and I certainly cannot live my life afraid to “dig in, baby.” All I can do is focus intently on where I can direct my life force, and embrace myself for the ride.