Rugged, wild and desolate, the west coast of Vancouver Island is perhaps my favourite place in the world; this time of year, during storm season, the rain-soaked, windswept beaches are nearly deserted. Though I love this place in the summer, I’m drawn to the wild windy beauty of mid-winter. There’s something about venturing out onto a long and lonely beach, buffeted by the wind, feeling the sting of the cold rain. There’s something about curling up in front of a fire, watching huge waves sweep in, listening to the wind howling and the rain lashing hard against windows.There’s something about falling asleep to the roar of the Pacific.
Recently, Will and I got away to the west coast for a few days. It was cold enough for hail and ice, so we didn’t spend long hours walking the beaches. This trip was about short forays out onto the beaches followed by tea and muffins at the Common Loaf Bakery in Tofino; it was about drinks in the bar at Black Rock Resort, where we stayed, watching the trees bend in the wind and the waves crash in to shore. The beauty of storm season is knowing that after time in the wind and the fog and the driving rain, there is shelter; there are warm drinks and a warm bath and a warm fire.
I’ve been weathering my own storm season these last couple of months, buffeted by inner turmoil, shaken by fear and uncertainty; I’ve spent too much time worrying and not enough enjoying life. It’s been a season when I’ve needed to retreat, to take shelter, to journal rather than to blog. I’ve needed to be inside myself. And along the way, I’ve started to come to terms with my own storms.
The Universe just keeps sending me the same lesson over and over again: stay in the moment. Appreciate the “right now.” Stop worrying about what may or may not lie ahead. One of these days I’m going to learn.
I’m in a calm place right now. I’ve found my “right now” and I’m going to try and stay here a bit. It feels as though maybe the worst of the storms have passed.