Summer has arrived on the West Coast of BC, here in the Northern Gulf islands . . . hot, sultry, glorious . . . and it is only June! I have already spent several days bathing in the ocean – warm like late August, or the Southern Pacific. The earth yearns for rain, and while I glory in the sunshine, I also note with sadness the change in our climate and the probable impacts, such as drought.
I have also moved, again, as is the way of many Cortesians at this time of year. We call it the summer shuffle; as the winter rentals expire to become high-priced short-term summer rentals and/or to make room for those owners who live here for the short, beautiful, summer months. I have left behind my winter paradise cabin, 20 feet from the ocean for a brand-new little cottage in a ‘village’ for seniors. . . except that the expected seniors didn’t sign up to rent them. There are six cottages, and only three currently occupied, only one with an actual senior in it. I guess my old-soul is manifesting in a new way . . .
My move has been fraught with emotion. I find myself coming up against my expectations, spoken and unspoken, of others, of myself, of the place in which I live. I discover, humbly, where my growing edges continue to be – where my strong values come into conflict with each other. I am reminded why I moved to Cortes – and how my reasons are not necessarily the same as other people’s; how my story about what living on this island means is not the same as others’ stories; how different people’s needs, values, and perspectives can be about the same things.
I also pay attention how much love and beauty I am surrounded by. I breathe in deep gratitude for the friends that I have developed here, for the powerful women I am deepening into relationship with, for the water, the sunshine, and the freedom that I have chosen.
Yesterday I chopped wood for over an hour in the heat of the day (what was I thinking???) . . . and followed it by a swim in the ocean (ah, yes – the reward!). My friend led me through the seaweed and the rocks over the reef at low tide – further out than I’ve ever been, navigating carefully over starfish and other amazing sea-life. We lazed in the clear, beautiful, water as the tide came in, and I realized that little more than a year ago, I’d have been in an office at that time of day, either staring longingly out the window . . . or so busy in my ‘important’ life that I almost forgot that ‘outside’ was even there. Whatever challenges I face here, whatever frustrations may come with this life (there are always some no matter what life we are living), no matter little money I have – I am blessed truly with freedom and abundance here.
Ironically, I have been thinking a lot about going traveling. It’s not so much that I want to leave here, as that I want to see and experience other parts of the world. I want to meet people in different places, experience different ways of living . . . hear and learn other languages. Feel sacred places on the earth. I also have a story about traveling, and finding myself within that process. Connecting to the parts of me that are fully confident in my ability to survive, to navigate anything, to go anywhere.
Last night I danced and, as I spun and spun and spun into ecstasy, I suddenly knew myself as whole – no matter where I am, where I go or don’t. I saw my divinity and felt it through my body. Aaaahhhhhh. I learned, bodily, that I don’t need to go anywhere to find myself. I am already whole.
I still want to travel – but perhaps it can be a lighter experience, one I can be more present to, with less unnecessary expectation. For now I choose to travel through my everyday experience into the sunshine, through the evening, into the realms of possibility and presence. I choose to be here now. And here, now, is incredible joy.
Blessed Be.
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