Tag Archives: nature

A Dawn Remembered

I wrote this in my late teens, some time before summer, 1986, when I was still in high school.

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A Dawn Remembered

Early morning I did wake
To gaze across a chilly lake
I then looked to the sky
That dropped a little lonely flake

The cold glistened in my eye
Though the furnace was nearby
My body felt what it saw
It made me shiver where I lie

The morning air, so crisp and raw
In its virginity was not a flaw
So pure and simple the day did start
That for a moment I stood in awe

This admiration is an art
That must come from your heart
This early morning I did wake
To watch this beauty fall apart.

The cry of the bird

I wrote this in my Grade 13 year in Art class (‘Early 1986). It wasn’t an assignment, just something I chose to write near some doodles of a loon.

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The cry of the bird

The beauty of the bird disguises the pain

But it’s call is not heard anymore

Unless you go north where it is slowly but surely disappearing there too

The pain is not that of the individual bird but that of the species

It cries out but nobody listens

The beauty is lost

Who can find beauty in a world of pain

Goodbye beauty

Goodbye bird

Goodbye pain

There is nothing left to feel the pain

Its life is over

The bird will not sing for our grandchildren

There will be nothing but a flying animal that they may some day read about in a book

An illusion on paper

That sings no songs

Feels no pain

Perhaps it may have beauty

But it is not the same

It is not the same.

The waterfall experience

In March of 2017 I was in Costa Rica and we visited a beautiful waterfall. This was my description on Facebook.

Take 43 seconds out of your day and watch this waterfall in slow motion.

Nature is amazing. There is a reason why we are drawn to the outdoors, and why natural formations like peaks, vistas, and waterfalls become beacons that draw us to them.

But what made this a truly incredible experience was that it was felt as well as seen. It was a full body experience.

Shovelling Snow

I remember I time when I didn’t know what snow was. Sure, I’d seen it on TV, but it didn’t make any sense. I grew up on a tropical island and a party-sized block of ice was the largest concept I had for something cold that didn’t sit inside of a fridge or freezer.

My first snowfall (except for a spattering of sleet) was a cartoonishly slow snowfall of giant flakes that made me question how real the world was.

That was Grade 5. By Grade 9 I was absolutely done with snow and knew I was not going to live in Toronto the rest of my life. When I came to Vancouver as a water polo coach in ’93, I knew that I was going to move here, and leave Toronto and the snow behind.

Well, I didn’t quite leave it behind, and this morning I was shovelling my driveway (for the third day in a row) before 6am. But it was quite enjoyable. I had my headphones in, listening to a book, the only other sound being my shovel against the driveway. At one point my mind drifted to what I was actually doing:

Snow falls and gets in the way of our daily living. We take shovels and move it aside. It then melts away, with no indication that it was ever there. Snow falls…

I’m reminded of this silly gif of a man shovelling water and tossing back into the same puddle.

I’m also reminded of how we are at the whim of nature. This year in BC we’ve had forest fires and torrential rains that have completely affected our lives with road closures and damaged homes, even loss of life. The raw power of the natural forces around us is incredible.

And, in this part of the world, we have snow. White fluffy stuff that falls and gets in our way. Sometimes, like the fires and floods, it can wreak havoc, other times it is a mild inconvenience… and we scurry around moving it out of the way with shovels, then we watch it melt away.

The great outdoors

For the first time since last summer I got on my bike and headed for a ride behind a nearby lake. I forgot how rejuvenating it can be to be in the woods, to hear the rush of water, to see the distant snow covered mountains, and glimpse a waterfall in the distance. All this just a 20 minute drive and 30 minute ride from my house.

I often go for wonderful walks with my wife on the dykes, and in a wooded lot near our house, so it’s not like I don’t ever get out in nature. However today I felt like I was really absorbed into the environment. The world felt so alive.

If you need a pick-me-up, escape into an environment where you are surrounded by nature. Leave you phone in your pocket, and music off. Appreciate the natural world in all its splendour.

Nature is amazing

After 17 years underground, the periodical cicadas are ready to resurface. These insects somehow know that 17 seasons have passed, and will be triggered to the surface by the warmth of a spring day… after skipping, yet counting, 16 other springs.

How is this information passed from one generation to the next? What is written into their DNA to give instructions like this? It’s one thing to hibernate for a winter, still another to sit dormant in the soil for 17 years.

Nature holds many secrets. There are many interesting things that happen in the natural world: salmon leave their birthplace in freshwater rivers and come back to the same location after 2 years of living in the salty ocean; monarch butterflies travel yearly from Canada to Mexico; some frogs can freeze for long periods and come back to life after warming up again.

It’s amazing that even today we are discovering new insects, new scientific anomalies, new discoveries about the world we live in, and the incredible mysteries of life. This year, millions of periodical cicadas are going to awake from dormancy after 17 years, molt, mate, and return to the soil for another 17 years. Incredible!

The sound of a river

Today I found a beautiful little spot to meditate and behind me a river was roaring softly. It drowned out the sound of cars and the hum of civilization. It took over my sense of hearing.

The white noise of a fast traveling river is very soothing. It calms the mind and softens your other senses. When I hear this sound, I am reminded of different places that have set a similar mood for me. My racing mind slows, and I feel calm.

All this from simple sound of running water.

Wind in the canopy

The next time you are out among a cathedral of trees look up at the canopy above you. Watch how the wind moves among the tall trees, pushing on some while others stay still. Height, girth, distribution of branches, and location relevant to other trees, all factor into how the wind plays with them and how they sway.

It’s hypnotic.

Lessons from nature

Took a bike ride today on a trail near Squamish and passed this massive rock that sheered of an adjacent rock face. Three trees have grown around it, adapting to the shape of the rock. It almost looks like they are there supporting the rock from falling over, like massive pillars burdened by the weight of the rock.

That’s not the case. The rock was probably there long before the trees, and they have grown around the stationary rock. They adapted to the presence of the rock.

In the coming weeks, schools will need to make some major adaptations to the structures put in place due to Covid-19. Some of these changes will be challenging. Unlike the giant, unmovable rock, the parameters of the response will be fluid and changing. Similar to the rock, what we are going to be facing will be long-lasting. This school year will be one where outbreaks determine responses and communities will be impacted.

Covid-19 will be the immovable rock, and we will need to respond organically.

The beautiful slug

It was the summer of 1997 and my wife and I were here on the 70km West Coast Trail with her parents and a couple that are family friends, who are few years younger than her parents. It had rained horribly the weeks before we left and just a week earlier some people had to be helicoptered out after two rivers flooded too much to pass through. So, we were prepared for the worst, but arrived to sunshine and heat that made each day less and less muddy.

We planned 6 nights, some people do the trip in 4, so we took our time and enjoyed an extra night at the prettiest of the stops, at a beautiful falls. My wife loves to keep a fast pace and with a pack on, she struggles to go slow. She’s also someone who speeds up going up hill, or when she sees the finish line… she can really move when there is a goal in front of her.

It was day 3, we were heading to the falls and we were pushing ourselves with our longest distance to travel when something happened… Four of us were well ahead of Ann’s parents and her mom fell. She didn’t hurt herself, but with the pack on she fell in a way where she was pinned down and struggling to get up. Ann’s dad is a bit hard of hearing and didn’t hear her calling for help, and when we looked back she was just getting up after struggling out of her pack.

That’s when we realized how heavy her pack was. She was fit and trained well for the trip (which she had done already) and decided to take the burden of more weight than she should have. Two new decisions were made at this point. First, I would take some of her weight – though my pack was heaviest, I had much of the food so it was already lighter then when we started. Second, we decided that my wife’s parents should not be at the back of the group.

The next day my wife was going crazy going slowly at the back with me. As I mentioned, it was still very muddy from the rains the weeks before and her parents were overly cautious as they traversed the muck. Where I would just slosh through, ankle deep with my gators on (think rain coats for your ankles and shins), her parents would carefully and thoughtfully choose the route with the least amount of mud. Makes perfect sense when you’ve got a heavy pack on and going through the mud is a bit of a balancing act.

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About two hours into our walk my wife said, “I can’t do this, I’ve got to go ahead,” and I told her to go on ahead, I’ll stay at the back. About 3 hours in, I was feeling like my wife did. I’d slosh through the mud then lead against a tree and watch my wife’s parents gingerly traipse around the mud, calculating each step. While I understood their need to be careful, watching them go so slowly when I was standing with a heavy pack waiting for them started to feel like work I. Just. Wanted. Them. To. Speed. Up! Every muddy section became a long slow chore of waiting and I was getting frustrated.

Then we reached a slow muddy section and after getting to the other side of it I saw a branch the perfect hight to rest my pack on while it was still on my back. This took all the pressure off my shoulders without me having to remove the pack. It felt great and as I took a deep breath I looked down at my feed and saw the most unusual slug. It was mostly yellow, but it had a bluish purple section as well. If it wasn’t moving I would have been sure it was fake. How did this ugly little animal have such beautiful contrasting colours on it?

After seeing the slug, I started to look around and really see the trail that until then was just a path to our next destination. Suddenly I was noticing birds, leaves, plants, colours and sounds, that before this point were just things in the background. Suddenly they were in the foreground. I no longer felt any need to rush. I was no longer waiting for my wife’s parents, I was traveling with them. I was enjoying the journey.

It was a big shift thanks to a small, beautiful slug.