Yesterday was a heavy one for people round these parts. There was a general sense of foreboding and sadness permeating much of the day.
It was the one year anniversary of the tragic deaths of PEI Green Party MLA candidate Josh Underhay and his young son Oliver in a canoeing accident.
And then, the slow unfolding of an unimaginably awful mass shooting in nearby Nova Scotia.
Coupled with the grief and uncertainty of COVID-19 it all felt like too much to process. Wait--it felt like too much to process because it is too much awfulness to process.
But we still have to keep on living and breathing. And opening to joy.
And so I went for a late afternoon walk.
Well, at first it was a walk.
That was where the walk ended and the wander began.
I poked around their empty yard for a while. I walked over to where my childhood playhouse was in their side yard and found at the base of a large tree some crocuses, always later there, in bloom.
I've eagerly looked for this patch each spring since I was small. Discovering them feels so familiar and soothing.
Seeing my mother at the door but not being able to run up and hug her--so strange and unsettling. The well of emotions in me became full to overflowing.
Not knowing where to go with my intense feelings and realizing that several sets of neighbours were watching my strange poking about, I left my parents property and let myself be led without any real sense of direction up the neighborhood streets I used to bicycle as a child.
I slowed my pace so I wasn't pushing my body or any feelings away. Footfall by measured footfall I made my way.
At the top of the hill I turned onto a gravel access road which just three weeks ago was still treacherous with ice. Towards the wood's trail I found myself going and then I suddenly stopped before turning onto the trail.
Why am I stopping here I thought to myself. I never stop here.
My breathing had become steadied by the calmness of my pace. But then the urge to run into the bush and hide under a pile of fallen tree limbs became strong. One fallen spruce laden with old man's beard looked particularly soft and welcoming.
Rather, I stayed put.
Instead of running away from my still intense feelings like I did so often as a child, I paused there at the forest's edge and stood in the relative quiet.
Life is filled with difficult truths and we, it seems, are not meant to understand them. My three uber-sensitive kids felt so raw yesterday it was difficult helping them navigate their fear and confusion at the nearness and immensity of all the pain while still skillfully navigating my own.
As I stood and looked about I noticed two of my favourite lichens there in the hardscrabble patch of ground at my feet.
An abundance of Pink Earth with their delicate but obviously hardy, pale pink fruiting bodies and a few small patches of bright red British Soldiers with their grey-green stems and regally red caps.
So impossibly beautiful in this crazy mixed up world and yet there they were and I had eyes to gaze upon them with.
And so I gazed-- and gazed (like Wordsworth and the daffodils as you will see should you keep reading).
Both these lichens are plentiful at my parents north shore woodland in Eastern PEI. Aaah, in my mindscape, I am breathing the air in the woods by the cape even as I type this now.
I stayed a long time squatting in gratitude for the quiet presence of these lichen creatures of parched soil. For wonder that on such a heartsore day a little patch of dry earth beauty could alight such joyfulness upon my own parched soul. And for gratefulness for having the wisdom to let myself wander raw as I was. As I still am.
Wandering can offer us sustenance when we take the time to let ourselves meander. Like silence to creativity, a lack of direction can land us exactly where we need to be and how.
Today's poem I was going to save for later in April, closer to Daffodil time but here it is, all lovely and directionless, landing on your email doorstep thanks to my sad wandering which led me straight to joy.
Taken from a Dover Thrift Edition book called William Wordsworth-- Favorite Poems, Unabridged which I received from my friend Tanya in May of 1994. I share with you William Wordsworth's poem:
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
ps==this poem made it's meandering way (by means of a beloved uncle) into an extended family email thread a number of weeks back after my sister Janice sent some wonderful pics of her West Coast daffodils in bloom, mid-March.
pss==for a look at the nominees for Nature PEI's Lichen Emblem of PEI and to vote (if voting is still open) click the above link.
Wishing you joy amid the heartbreak,
Thanks for your willingness to click and read.
Jill
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