Moments of Joy III
“Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love.
It will not lead you astray. ”
Photo credit: Point No Point Resort.
Two years ago, during the days when we woke to uncertainty every morning, I shared with you moments of joy that startled my scattered mind with their intensity. I introduced you to Caroline McHugh’s TedTalk, The Art of Being Yourself. McHugh speaks about the uniqueness of individuals rather than their commonalities. In her talk, McHugh shows a clip of singer, Jill Scott, waiting to go on stage just as Eryka Badu is finishing. An interviewer asks her, are you nervous performing after Badu? Scott laughs and says, have you seen me perform? She continues, “We all have our own thing. That’s the magic; everyone comes with their own strength and their own queendom. Mine could never compare to hers and hers could never compare to mine.” Don’t those words just spark joy? McHugh also says there are only two times in your life that you are fantastically yourself, when you are very young and when you are an oldie, and you can’t be arsed by anything or anyone – how I wish I could write that with a Scottish lilt! My friend Sharon began referring to herself as an oldie after reading those words, and I feel a moment of joy every time I hear her speaking that word.
On a cool fall day, a few months later, I again wrote about moments of joy. The mournful sound of foghorns drifting across the Straight of Georgia woke me after a night of undisturbed sleep. I turned the heat on while I made coffee, just long enough to take the chill out of the air. And then I snuggled into bed again, listening to John Tavener’s Song for Athene, sung by the Westminster Abbey Choir. This had become my routine on weekend mornings – writing in bed while enjoying a cup of French Roast coffee and listening to gentle music.
In that blog post, I wrote that my threshold for joy had shifted sometime in the spring. The pandemic had left me feeling overwhelmed by anxiety, uncertainty, and grief. But that week, there had been a glimmer of hope as fleeting moments of joy began to re-surface. I wrote about what brought me joy: nature, connections, and the capacity to concentrate.
This past week the special connection my husband and I have filled me with joy. And oh, this ability to concentrate as the pandemic no longer takes centre stage is a joy - I wrote three blog posts in one day! However, the beauty of our natural world fills my every day with joy!
I have travelled to many corners of the world, but my favourite corner of the world is right in my own backyard. This week, my husband and I are recharging our batteries. We have been nestled in a cabin in the woods on the southern coast of Vancouver Island. There is no internet, no cell service, and no television. There is, however, a wood-burning fireplace, a hot tub, an unbelievable ocean view, and complete solitude and privacy. We have stayed here numerous times since our children were young; every time we visit, we leave with a deep sense of wonder and contentment.
I expect anyone who has visited the Pacific Northwest, especially the west coast, might feel the same. There is a scary ruggedness to this place - cougars and bear warnings, frequent power failures, and storms that leave us leery of trees falling on our cabin. The ocean-side shrub is so dense that the only way through is to bushwhack. We know because one time, when we first moved to the west coast, we wandered off the trail and thought that our only way back to civilization was to be rescued by the Coast Guard. Then we found a beach - and discovered footprints - leading us to a trail and eventually back to our car and a hot thermos of tea.
This ruggedness fills me with awe. We love following the web of trails through this property, stopping to watch the waves crashing against the rocks from the many viewpoints. This time, we are slightly wary of the warning we have received that there is a mother bear and her two cubs on the property, mixed with hope that we might see them – from a safe distance! We head down to the covered fire pit with our cribbage board and bottle of wine. We are alone on this stretch of beach except for a seal riding a wave. We pull out binoculars to see if she is being chased by orcas - but there are no whales in sight.
Later that evening, my husband calls me to join him on the deck to watch the sunset. Words and photos never capture the breathtaking beauty of sunrises and sunsets. They are an experience one has to witness. Standing on the deck, my husband wraps his arms around me and whispers how much he loves me into my ear. We watch a pair of eagles spiralling in the wind, so close that I feel like I could reach out and touch them. A robin trills an evening lullaby as the sun slips away.
Can you imagine this little slice of heaven where we are grateful to rest our heads for a week? Can you feel the joy in my words? Thursday was our last day here. Where was I? You guessed it – curled up in bed writing, a cup of French Roast coffee on the night table. The lashing rain against the bedroom window was fierce competition for the ocean's roar; the Douglas firs swayed in the wind; and a lone fishing boat struggled against the choppy waves. That morning, the Olympic Peninsula was hidden behind a low-lying mist. Perfect for a final walk through the rain-drenched forest
We have booked this cabin again for next year. Anticipation also brings me joy. My soul fills with music to know that we plan to return next year to celebrate another year together.
Point No Point Resort consists of 25 cabins on 40 acres that hug the coastline along Juan de Fuca Strait, a 30-minute drive past Sooke, British Columbia. (Make sure you stock up on anything you might have forgotten as you pass through Sooke because it is the closest place for gas and groceries.) The cabins are intentionally situated so you are assured privacy. Cabins have fireplaces, hot tubs, and ocean views. Some are dog friendly. They are well-appointed, immaculately clean, and firewood is delivered daily. We have been visiting since our girls were young and our favourite cabins are Cabin 2, the Glacier Loft, and Grace’s Log Cabin – but we have not stayed in all of them. The property offers a web of trails to beaches and cliff-high vistas. One of our favourite spots is the beachside covered fire pit, where there is always a roaring fire and plenty of Adirondacks to sink back into. The restaurant is currently closed but does offer take-out. The staff are amazing – friendly, helpful, and respectful of guests’ privacy.
Don’t bother looking for the Book Now button when you visit the website. Reservations are only taken over the phone and confirmations are mailed out. Think you might like to visit? Consider booking a year ahead of time! If you are flexible with dates and able to stay during the week, then you might not need as much lead-time. You can also check their Facebook page to see if there are any last-minute cancellations.