Guten Tag, Reader,

The water level seemed high enough, judging by how much we could see of the bridge pillars. “Let’s go through Council Grove,” I said, and since I was behind the oars, my husband didn’t disagree.

There is only enough water in the Clark Fork River to float through Council Grove State Park for a few weeks each year, so I was eager to take that channel one more time. Scarcity can be a good motivator*

As soon as we enter the channel past the point of no return, I realize that my judgment had been off. The water looked skinny, pebbles and rocks clearly sticking out from the riffles. We will get stuck.

What worried us deeply as beginners no longer fazes us much as more experienced boaters. In fact, we have learned to embrace the pause created by the bottom of the boat slowly settling on the bottom of the river.**

I pull in the oars and have the rest of my morning coffee. D gets out and fishes the seam between the shallow and the deep.

It will happen a few more times that day, and even when I realize that I didn’t bring my book, I am contentedly settling into a beautiful Sunday morning, not too hot, not smoky yet, spent pausing in the middle of a river without even needing an anchor.

And when we’re ready, we simply pull the boat back into the current.

When I started this email, I had the metaphor ready. Wanted to explain to you the subtle qualities of stuckness. Make a case for not always pushing against it immediately.

But you’ve got this. You know when you’ve been stuck. Maybe you currently are. And perhaps you don’t like it.

But what if you are exactly where you are supposed to be? Today. Right now. In this place.

What would you have missed had life not settled into a halt?

Listen, not all levels of stuckness are the same. I have witnessed boaters stuck in the middle of a class III rapid for over an hour, with no time to look around and appreciate the scenery. But even then, there was beauty in the mess to be acknowledged once we all were safe and dry at camp.***

And perhaps your life doesn’t feel like being stuck on a gravel bar with no movement, but rather like being stuck in a never-ending rapid with no slow water in sight.

Remember that you are behind the oars. You can pull into an eddy and assess where you are.

If your body just reacted with a little yearning, please consider Circle of Seasons, put together by the amazing Katie Weaver:

Circle of Seasons

Circle of Seasons is a four-part retreat series across Montana, created to help us reconnect with nature’s rhythms through rest, ritual, and community. Each intimate gathering explores the energy of a season through nature immersion, creative practices, and time to slow down, reflect, and reconnect. I am collaborating with Katie in the fall. Join us for Descent, October 2–4, 2026, in the Swan Valley—or reserve your place for the full seasonal journey. Learn more here.​

Celebrating you wherever you are—stuck or floating through,

P.S. The last time you felt stuck, what smelled, looked, sounded, or felt surprisingly good there?

* and a powerful inhibitor whenever I believe stories that begin with “not enough…”

** Unless we can see that we’ll be dragging the boat over gravel for more than a few feet. That is still stressful. Especially when you are out for a pre-World Cup Final outing and actually do want to be back by a certain time.

*** Like a group of strangers in kayaks who interrupted their trip to help.

If you found something valuable in today's letter, why not buy me a coffee? I am keeping my writing AI-free, which means a lot of creativity goes into it. You can leave a tip for me here or Venmo me @sylke-laine.