The quiet awakens me, the only sound the quiet hum of the refrigerator.
And then it stops and quiet envelops me in its welcoming presence once again.
I like the quiet. The stillness of the air silenced of all noise. I like the way it moves into me and through me, awakening my senses. I feel the silence. Its calming depths. Its velvety touch. Its sweet aroma of gratitude.
I was grateful last night for the work I’ve been doing (albeit intermittently) on ‘taking back the night’.
I arrived back late. Our first session – a wonderful sharing of thoughts and ideas and the meaning of music and then music itself – ended at 9:45. My sister’s house is an easy 5 – 8 minute drive from The Haven. As long as I don’t get lost.
I got lost.
Took the right fork for the South Road instead of the left onto the North Road. Granted, the South Road loops around the island, joining up with the North Road once again. But it was dark. I spied deer standing on the margins of the road all along the way.
I slowed down.
Cell phone service is undependable on the island. What would I have done in the pitch dark of night if I hit a doe?
I drove and watched for street signs gleaming in my headlights. Eventually, I found the road I was seeking. Bertha. I turned right, wound my way through the trees, down the hill, around the corner until I found my destination. – that’s after I drove past Bertha Street a couple of times before realizing, yes, I had missed the turn, once from both directions.
When I arrived at the house it was ten to eleven. The night was inky black, high cloud obscuring the clouds. The house was dark. I felt the fissure of fear of the dark licking at my heels. I gathered my belongings in the security of my car, left the headlamps on as I walked around the path to the side door.
I kept breathing.
Night. Dark. Strange surroundings. Quiet. They all add up to a whole bunch of imagined creatures lurking in the shadows – though there weren’t really any shadows, it is so dark on the island at night.
I took another deep breath. Calmed myself and let the silence guide me. All is safe, it whispered. All is well.
How could it not be? I’d had a marvelous day!
Anne and I had set out at nine for MadRona’s Café where I had sat and posted my blog while she read in the garden. From there, we journeyed around the island, visiting points of interest she had wanted to share. The pottery garden where guests are invited to purchase pieces of pottery and ‘leave your money in the jar’. The honour system alive and well on Gabriola.
Anne having her hand read
We toured the Village Market. Wandered on a beach and went to an outdoor craft market where both Anne and I had our hands read.
It’s not about fortune telling, Janice the palm reader told me. It’s about identifying the story your hands tell.
Mine told of stress building. You tend to be highly analytical, she said. You take action, but first you see all the viewpoints. To others it looks like you are acting without thought, some would say impetuously. But you think fast.
You live in the ‘school of service’. Constantly struggle with the balance between service and servitude. Somewhere your boundaries are being pushed and you are struggling. Your integrity is at stake and integrity is key for you to live a peaceful life.
We drove, our bellies content, back to the house. I napped. Anne fed the wild turkeys and read her book. And then my sister was off on the ferry back to the mainland and I drove to The Haven. After registering, I wandered down to the beach and sat in the late afternoon sun. The water was calm. Boats bobbed, birds dipped, sun glistened on the water’s surface. A young boy leapt from rock to rock with his father, pointing out streams of seaweed, crabs skittering along and a jellyfish washed ashore. His laughter rippled on the air, entwining listening hearts with joy. In the late afternoon shadows, joy descended and the heat of the day intensified.
I let it all wash over me and simply sat in the moment, feeling the presence of wonder and awe flowing all around.
Clarity sharpens in moments of solitude. Senses slowly unwrap themselves from the blanket of traffic noises and sirens and sped up life that becomes the norm in the busy scuryring to and fro of city living.
Sitting on an Adirondack chair overlooking the bay, sun streaming down upon me, soft breezes stirring my soul, I feel myself unwind.
I am blessed.
I am grateful.
I am coming home within myself.