![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia5su0i59sLJTPs54j01uXHLEIfGN23sLSa8S0vJQYTY_6yHNsphzSlHwUkhOkkyaipo72pGFiNb-oFzsdQM_g-OzKjVLNFrJXBW_Jr3ynIE3ROM4iF3RofAzIHxz_WWI-F4zBIdJbThGK/s200/Canoe.jpg)
Johannes, surveying the
landscape with wide-eyed Aristotelian wonder, comments as is his wont on the
vegetation like an amateur botanist. “Let
me know if you’re not interested in such details,” says the sternman to the
bowman. “I’ll keep thinking these
thoughts, of course, but I’ll keep them to myself.” Jacobus does not respond, for he is aware
that Johannes very well knows the answer to his own question. It’s a ritual. They take in nature by both getting lost in
the details and eyeing the breadth of nature's bounty from the summit.
A few bloodroot flowers shooting out of a shoreline shrub arrest their attention. But they're not merely extending their gaze outward. Two introverts look within, like Platonists searching for the ideal forms
behind the beauty, often discovering that their true desires are not as
translucent as the water lapping up against their canoe. Likewise, their metaphysical state is not as
serene as the virescent scenery in their purview, though the latter is certainly working its magic on the former. Both men have had a similar spiritual
journey, even if they arrived at the same place in their own way. They look ahead and see another bend in the
river. What’s up ahead? Troubled waters or the best campsite ever? The journey is not over. Up river is another experience they'll share, perhaps something to laugh about around the campfire. Friendship is thus.