Liquid Savasana

23 08 2019

This morning dawned with a late August softness, a sky drawn with stretched clouds and a stillness that beckoned me from my intended plans. My regular Friday chores could wait I decided, as I put my paddleboard on my car rack and drove down to the Bay.

There, the water greeted me, still as glass, its molten pewter tones marrying the reflection of the blues and greys of the skies above. In silence, I launched, the only sounds the drips from the paddle as I drew myself along the shoreline. I was in no hurry, indulging in the sweetness of no agenda. I chose to head north, along the cliffs of Queens Bay, where kayaks and gazebos and canoes are tucked into ledges beneath the homes that stand watch far above.

I paddled along the edge of the rocks, seeing glimpses of fish hugging the drop-off. Giant boulders lay beneath the surface, tumbled from the face of the cliffs eons ago, precariously balanced on edges. The water fades from crisp clarity to a greenish blur until there is nothing but darkness. Sometimes it fades with jumbles of rocks, sometimes it’s a sheer face of an immersed cliff. The morning sun was perfectly aligned for seeing the magic beneath me. It’s always a wonder, a slightly unnerving one, when you realize how deep this lake really is. When you can go from five feet to over 200 feet deep in one single stroke of the paddle.

The ferry wake reached me at one point, the waves were gentle rollers, hitting me broadside and challenging my balance. I admit I might have whispered “Weeeeee” as I rolled with them. They pushed up against the cliffs, rippling and creating a moiré effect of the sky’s reflection, a fleeting Impressionist painting of jagged rocks and gnarled trees clinging to the rocks above me.

A kayaker greeted me in silence, we merely smiled and nodded without marring the quiet with unnecessary sound. As I returned, and rounded the corner, a brace of Mergansers rose from their underwater group feeding, their crests flashing brilliant ochre in the morning light. They looked surprised to see me, a few of them giving me a side-eye to make sure I was no threat to them. They quacked, murmuring mollification to one another. I stood still on my board to give them the space they needed and watched them until they dove under again.

I indulged in laying on my board in the middle of the Bay for a few minutes, my hands on either side of me, cupping water and pouring it through my fingers, a liquid savasana.

I think I could have stayed there forever, in that peace. In that quiet. In that embrace of a late August morning. This will see me through until next year, I believe, those moments of pure stillness, draped over me like a silk sheet. I have tucked it away into my heart, to revel in at any time when I need to.

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How about you?

24 02 2018

Oh I’m ready. I’m so ready.

I’m ready for open windows and soft breezes that clear that stagnant wintery dreariness from the rooms. I’m ready for sunlight creeping in at 4 am and the incessant chatter of birds outside my window. I’m ready to witness the patches of tired dirt-caked snow grow smaller every day and to bear witness to the tight little buds of leaves as they ready themselves to unfurl in  bursts of vibrant green.

I’m ready for evening walks in the spring air. I’m ready for washing the winter gear one last time and tucking it all away. I’m ready for the soft rains that nourish the soil and enhance the scents of new life all around us.

I’m ready for the daring of snowdrops and the audacity of tulips, sometimes reaching up through leftover snow that the sun hasn’t reached yet.

I’m ready to shake out the dirt and dust of being inside too much. I’m ready to bike along my lake and to hear the cries of the ospreys as they return to their summer home. I’m ready to breathe deep and fill my lungs with spring.

I’m ready to grill burgers outside and linger on the deck until dusk. I’m ready for beers on the beach with my dearest friends. I’m ready to hear the distant motors of boats on the lake and sprinklers with their rhythmic tick lulling me into a meditative state.

I’m ready to run without fear of slipping on ice. I’m ready to absorb the warmth of our sun. I’m ready for the quiet joy of rolling out my yoga mat in the early evening air.

I’m ready to embrace all the gifts that spring and summer are eager to bestow. I’m so ready.

How about you?





A little ebb and a little flow

26 08 2017

It’s looking pretty fatigued out there these days. Limp and exhausted, branches support the faded echoes of spring bravado. Brilliant greens are no more than a memory of the beginning of summertime; every leaf drained of its glory, a muted effort to stay for just a bit longer. Sunlight casts a different angle through my windows, lighting up the dust motes dancing and much to my chagrin, lighting up every single dog hair on my wood floors.

There is just under a month of summer left, but it’s the somewhat melancholic summer days that eke out a sadness in my heart. A panicky flutter of my soul, eager to wring out every last delicious drop of it. Did I swim enough? Did I sit on my deck and watch the stars come out enough? Will I have feasted on summertime enough to tide me through the dark days, the cold nights that are on their way?

The answer of course is yes. I have closed my eyes while floating in the Bay, breathing in that intoxicating summer smell. I have savoured bites of huckleberry crisp, berries that we picked early in the morning, my eyes almost tearing up at the tart and sweet of it all. I’ve marveled at the gift of walking my dog at dusk in nothing but shorts and a tank top, that warm air kissing our skin. Sundays over at Sunshine Bay with friends, that hot sun searing on our shoulders, and the only way to cool down is a plunge in the lake.

I’d gladly have more summertime. I love that heat, the early sunny mornings. Those late nights, hearing music echo from a beach party across the lake. Bike rides and peonies, lawn mowers and hummingbirds. I feel more me in the summer, I can’t explain it better than that.

But our seasons, they are part of us. We morph into each one, some reluctantly, others with excitement. There is magic in every seasonal change. There is joy found with crisp fall days and leaves crunching under our feet. Hot tea instead of iced coffee in the afternoons, sweaters and boots find their way from the darkness of our closets. Soups and bread nourish us. That brilliant blue of a fall sky demands our admiration and yes, we admit its beauty. Boisterous oranges and reds and yellows are painted on our landscapes, and yes, it is no more than simply breathtaking.

We ebb and flow, like tides. It’s not without a measure of dispirited energy for some. For others though, Autumn is their favourite season and they’ve trudged through the summer heat with the sweet knowledge that it is on its way.

These last few weeks of summer that are laid out before us demand us to enjoy. Have one more BBQ, a couple more days on the boat. Swim a few more times. Marvel at your tan lines. As we meander through these last of the summer days, we give in to it, we acquiesce to Nature.

And we find joy and beauty in it all.