25 people, from different parts of the country. Actors, graphic art designers, movie producers, inventors, film directors, counselors, poets, musicians, all of us vagabonds of sorts. All traveling to a remote oasis in the Canadian Rockies. We all took planes from our varied cities. Then we drove rental cars. After that, we crossed the border and began to hear "about" pronounced "abooot" in spades...and we we knew we were getting closer. Add some ridiculously fresh sushi for dinner, then a hostel for some quick sleep, and back on the road again. Driving just a bit more, we found the coast, hopped a ferry, cars and all. Then we drove some more again, (we - the loopy, traveling Nashville crew), singing ridiculous songs and laughing until our voices hurt. We finally jumped on a water taxi after nearly 7 hours of travel en masse, and skuttled closer towards the Princess Louisa Inlet.
We wound our way through azure waters encircled by stunning mountains that left us all silent. Our eyes drawn up and out beyond the horizon. And, in the distance, a small wooden speck gradually grew into the cabin oasis that we'd been looking for...
This is a home that belongs to a very special man. An owner of a West Coast law firm, but by no means your average lawyer. A man dedicated to selflessness, whimsy, jaw-dropping generosity, and unrelenting optimism. He and his one-of-a-kind family built this oasis specifically for rest and rejuvenation for those curious enough to come all this way. And
Donald Miller was kind enough to invite all of us to share not only in this serene locale, but in the magic of Bob and his family for several days.
Before this trip, I was lower than I can remember being in a long time. Life can just be so messy, can't it? When things pile higher than you feel you're capable of tackling, when prayers feel stale, when tectonic plates shift and grind internally, etc. This place was a giant deep breath. Waking up to seals poking their sea-soaked bodies out of the water to see what we were up to, sipping a cup of coffee while overlooking a snow dusted mountain, fresh thoughts to ponder unhindered by time, a place where it all could stand still, etc. Words can't describe how badly I needed this trip.
One very wise thing all 25 of us were challenged with the first day we arrived was to unplug and to pay attention. It is amazing to think of all the static noise we have in our brains on any given day...and it took nearly another 24 hours until the cacophony of sounds inside began to fade away for me. I was pleasantly relieved to find that I could finally hear the sound of my own heartbeat a little more. It begged the questions: What had I been ignoring? What had I left unsaid? What had I been missing?
So I unplugged. I climbed rocks, jumped off cliffs into the chilly blue depths, lounged in warm sunlight, had long talks with new friends, laid on the lawn for hours watching white hot shooting stars. I hid behind huge waterfalls, got happy green bruises adventuring in nature, sneaked away to solitude by the shoreline. And that's when I opened my journal, paid attention even still further, and finally let the tears come...
The call to be present, aware, whimsical. It can be so quickly stolen by how busy each day can get. But the poetry, nature, community, and stillness of this trip reminded me how important it is to be quiet and listen.
I wish I could have scooped you all up and taken you with me to this spectacular place. But even if I didn't fit you in my suitcase, I hope today you can find some way to be still. Sit for just another minute. Grab a magnifying glass, and look at something closely. Write down that itching thought in the back of your mind. Take a second to breathe a little deeper...to listen to your own heartbeat again.
Have a great rest of your weekend...
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