“When we allow our souls to inhabit such places the world becomes too full to talk about and
we carry the silence home.”             

Silence, someone said, is the first language of God.

What I want to tell, I don’t have words to describe.  I wish I had a picture but it would not add much to convey my experience. As Richard Wagamese writes, it is one of those times when our soul inhabits the place that becomes “too full to talk about and so we carry the silence home.”  And I assure you, I have carried something forward from that day that I can’t name. 

On Valentine’s Day, I went for a sunrise paddle.  It was frosty when I left my house and indeed the sun was coming up.  There were four of us on our paddle boards that set out from Gonzales Bay heading out to Trial Island. Sometimes, it is necessary to go north along the west shore toward McNeil Bay to find safe crossing through the channel to make our way east, depending on the conditions. With it’s lighthouse, keepers’ residence and data collecting equipment, the main island is in full view once we leave the bay. 

The stillness of the morning was breathtaking, the sun making a golden path to follow across the glistening sea.  However, it was not a silent morning; the loud barking of California Sea Lions, up from the South for the food to be had this time of year, echoed across the water. They are all males as I understand, young and in a party mood it seems.  As we approached the gap between the largest and smaller of the islands, we didn’t go close to shore or stay long; the sea was also full with seals that regularly congregate here. 

Melissa and I were a bit behind the other two paddle boarders as we headed back to Gonzales Bay.  I heard a curious splash behind me.  Turning just enough, I caught a glimpse of maybe three seals following behind my board, not too close, but I sensed their presence.  Then we both noticed groups of 3-4 seals on either side of us as well.  “Maybe they are making sure we leave,” we laughed.  But when they kept following us, we kind of settled in to their presence thinking maybe they were an escort, accompanying us as we headed back.  

The seals followed us across the channel and all the way back to Gonzales Point, around which we would enter the Bay. As we approached that spot where we would  make our turn, the seals seemed to congregate on the open side of the bay and seemed to be waiting for us to make our way toward shore. I’ve physically described the scene but I cannot explain how those seals’ presence affected me and the experience has stayed with me.  

Having those seals so attentive to us and us to them, I feel that they honoured us with their presence as we honoured them. Perhaps they imagined us as a less-obtrusive and grateful visitor. Oddly enough, almost every time I’ve paddled since then I’ve met a seal swimming near me that seemed to greet me eye to eye.  I’m sure they’ve always been around me but I have something new to hold in wonder.

When we encounter life around us with an attentiveness that is more than we can see with our eyes, as Wagamese contends, “we confront a power that is beyond our ability to negotiate with, to control, to change, alter, or arrange to suit us.” The prayer I chose months ago to end my meditative time seems a fitting forerunner to the life giving force of places “too full to talk about.”

What a difference being calm and expectant, being open to the unfolding of this day makes.  

On Wednesday, I took the bus downtown and walked around breathing in the coolness of the morning and looking in shop windows; sensing the lives of those I passed in my Victoria.  This place welcomes that kind of meandering and sense of wonder.  I had forty minutes until my appointment to renew my driver’s licence and health card.  My appointment was at noon and let me just say that I was out by noon because I didn’t have my PR identification card.  

Mitch asked me before I left if I had that card and I said no.  “Did you need yours?”  I asked. He didn’t.  So, I was sure I wouldn’t need mine. But, I did need that card for the unexpected reason the kind lady assisting me explained.  She also took time to make me another appointment so I wouldn’t have to do that myself online and I walked out into the rest of my day.

I didn’t notice the sun shining in the harbour that greeted me right outside the door. Instead, I hurried toward the bus stop. I was too busy going over what I should have done and how I failed to finish what I’d set out to do. I continued to ruminate over how I’d wasted the bus ride downtown and the $6 fare spent. I had renewed my license five years ago and came expecting to efficiently renew again.  I’d carefully timed my appointment to avoid a perceived wait in the busy office. I had looked forward to a leisurely walk around town like I’d experienced every Sunday morning for years and now I just wanted to go home.

The next morning, I went to pick up shoes I’d purchased from my favourite online charity store.  Like new, less than half the price, just my size, and the money I paid went to support women in need.  Driving back through town on another lovely day, I decided to act on my renewed hope that I might try to just walk in and get my licence. I was already on Douglas Street and knew what street to turn on to get to my destination but where to park?  That’s definitely the advantage of riding the bus. 

I turned on Yates Street because I saw the city parking garage sign. When I turned into the garage, I was surprised to find several open free 1 hour parking spots. I parked and made the short walk outside, I was already on ground level.  Leaving the dimness of the garage, it took me a minute to sense the way toward the water.  The office I needed is on Wharf street across from the Inner Harbour.  

Navigating my way down the adjacent alley, I soon recognized picturesque Bastion Square. I’d just read in the newspaper the square was being used as the set for a Hallmark Christmas movie.  That explained the half-decorated tree, wreaths and bows on the railings of Gage Gallery, our favourite small art collective.  Across the walk, people were packing up evidence of the movie’s seasonal transformation. I’d have to tell my friend Stacy, who regularly watches those holiday TV movies about unexpectedly coming into this very spot.

Walking a few more blocks, I arrived at my destination and paused to watch a float plane land on the water glistening in the morning sun.  I went straight to the check in and was encouraged to “pay attention to the monitor” because my number would be summoned immediately. “136” was already flashing as I turned the corner for the waiting, or in my case, no waiting area. I took about five minutes to present what was needed and answer a few questions. I quickly was directed to the photo area and pulled off my toque and glasses.  I had put my hat over wet hair this morning, so no telling what that picture would look like.  

When the photo taker turned the screen around so I could see the picture, which I couldn’t without my glasses, I thanked her and was on my way.  I walked again down Wharf Street toward my free parking spot grateful for my new shoes, renewed licence in record time, and for my life right here.  This time, I relished my walk on this spring morning along Wharf street, through lovely Bastion Square, and down the busy alley to the parking garage. I wasn’t even hindered when, at my next stop, a parking spot was a little harder to find. When I finished that errand, I had to wait for the ever-present road work just a few blocks from my house. I had time to notice the people making their way down the Avenue toward their own morning business grateful I’d finished mine.

A standing body prayer to begin each day: