During Holy Week, Mitch and I spent the week in Tofino, on the west coast of Vancouver Island. It seemed a fitting week to be away. On Wednesday afternoon, I took the short walk through the woods to Middle Beach. From the balcony of our room, I could see I would probably be alone. I took my notebook and my bare feet to to my seat on the driftwood log, writing under the influence of the connectedness of life here.
I should have brought a camera to take a picture of this spot. Yet, it would only be a cheap copy of now. The ocean is loud and I cannot see anyone as I look around; only the deep blue of the water, the lace of surf as it touches the shore and the wide expanse of smooth sand. I’m back near the forest sitting on a large driftwood log. Once a robust tree, her strength my seat and her younger sister my footstool.
In front of me, on the sand still damp from high tide, someone has stacked rounded stones. Sabine told me this was a thin place. I know that, too. My bare feet soak in the warmth of the sun and feel the pulse of the sea through the sand.
Earlier this morning, Mitch and I walked on Mackenzie Beach on the other side of the place we are staying. At low tide we witnessed the sea life waiting the return of the tide that will change their lives.
Walking where the waves broke shoreline I, too, felt the pull of the tidal water renew the life in me just like the sea stars and anemones and barnacles waiting on the rocks for the life giving water’s return. I walked for as long as the beach lasted and gave way to massive black rock that blocked my way.
The reciprocal care between the earth and us is evident in unexpected ways. We place a rubber squid on the door knob outside our room. It is a signal that we don’t need the extravagant use of water resources to have someone change our sheets or wash extra towels during our stay. That little squid is a more compatible symbol of care and kindness for all life rather than the “DO NOT DISTURB” signal from another place and time.
We are blessed to be here during this “holy week” that isn’t any different than any other week here. The wonder never ceases. The troubles of the world seem non-existent for a moment. It’s easier to let go here; to know that the possibilities of my worries aren’t worth my attention, as they seem to be in the dark, when I forget to trust the unity of all things that doesn’t change. What does that compline prayer say? Be present, O merciful God,…so that we who are wearied by the changes and chances of this life may rest in your eternal changelessness.
It’s easier to participate in the trust of the whole creation here—to have the strength to let go—of control, of despair, of anything that keeps me from this reality that I know in this moment. Yes, I can always return to this deep centre, trusting that the rope of Love will hold no matter what is pulling the other end.
Attentive to Joy 