A Creative Writing Story Stumbled on Upon Contemplation of Several Pieces of Weavery at Camphill Cascadia

During the Living Gold 2012 Conference this past summer one of many workshops offered was a creative writing class and was much enjoyed by many who attended. Now recently Reverend Susan Locey has begun a Bible study group on the Gospel of the week where we talk about meanings in the words of scripture and then we shift gears and take a theme from the subject matter discussed and begin our own creative writings. I attended the first one but for different reasons was not able to make it to the next two. However I had a sudden insight into an idea of my own which I will explain shortly. Quite a few years ago my Grandfather on my Father's side sent me a cassette tape with a meditation story on it. The point of it was to relax and to equate goals in one's life with objects or places in the story in order to focus and find ways to achieve these goals. The story I am posting today is in a similar vein although here the point is mostly relaxation by becoming immersed in the description of a particular landscape, hopefully enjoyable to the intended reader. The scenes are mostly actual places I have been to here in British Columbia but I have drawn them all together to within a few kilometers of each other to create a new but not entirely implausible place. A few weeks ago during my lunch break I was looking at some weavery which had just been brought over to the new location for the weaving workshop in the downstairs of Sophia House. There where seven pieces visible and later the lady running the workshop told me there are five more behind the seven to correspond to the twelve months of the year. On the seven pieces I could see the three primary colours red, yellow and blue and the three colours I have always thought of as in between, namely orange, purple and green. The seventh was a shade of blue between blue and purple. I had the sudden thought "What could that mean, an extra shade of blue?"
Well, this was the result:


                                     Many Shades of Blue and Green along a Western Shore

It is late summer and you are in a sailboat at the very end of a narrow inlet somewhere up the coast of British Columbia in western Canada. Your life partner has stayed back for a few days in a coast town along the more open ocean visiting friends. It is quiet except for the occasional lapping of tide water on the smallish round stones and sea kelps along the shore. It is a somewhat cloudy day but every once in a while the sun comes out for half an hour or more. This seems a little intimidating here at the end of the ocean and what with the silence but wait a second: "Isn't this just the thing many people wish for; to be removed from the noise and worrying minutiae of city life?" you think. You lean back against a railing, put your feet up, hands behind your head and close your eyes. "Ah yes, this is just the thing." Now you realize there are other sounds: a gull mewing far off down the inlet, a very distant fog horn, tiny groans from your vessel as the slight swells of the ocean shift you around and a faint rushing, maybe a set of rapids or a waterfall in the stream which enters this small bay. Also there are smells too: the salt and sea plants all around, and the almost new finish on your boat deck whenever the sun begins to warm it. Slowly you re-open your eyes and take in the sights anew. Peering over the edge of your sailing craft and looking more carefully into the almost calm water you see the ocean plant life is an absolute riot of reds, greens and yellows. In fact, this whole biosphere, the whole valley surrounding this seemingly unnamed? inlet is a wild blend of blues in the sky and the waters, greens in the tall trees, bushes below and mosses on overhanging bluffs on either side. As if in answer to your question you hear an eagle and a raven communicating their differences of opinion, the one briefly screams and the other responds with a deeper, guttural sound. You understand what sounds like "Aaahe, Wahk!" You think: "I will name this place Ah, Walk Inlet. What a good idea, time for a walk..."

You head below deck and quickly make a lettuce, tomato and corned beef sandwich, a PB&J and grab a liter of sun brewed tea you made back in Vancouver a few weeks ago and stuff it all into a day pack. You put on your yellow knee high gumboots with the drawstring at the top for wading in shallows, chuck the anchor into a jumble of rocks likely looking good enough to hold the sailboat, flip the small inflatable boat overboard and head to shore. Once the inflatable is tied to a branch on a large driftwood log you make your way up the rest of the beach, over a bit of fairly level grass at the top edge and along what looks like an old deer path near the stream which heads into the forest, tending leftwards at a bit of an angle but gently curving in places too. Several hundred yards in you see what you heard before, there is a small waterfall, probably big enough to shower under if the weather was hotter. The water is somewhat tinted like a weak tea from the presence of Cedar trees in the area. Dogwood trees are leaning over pools in the stream which is narrower but deeper here than at the ocean's edge. The leaves of the Dogwoods are turning red in spots and falling off while still somewhat green. Some of the leaves float away slowly, others stick to stones and the roots of ferns along the banks. It is very peaceful here and the air has an extremely clean but pleasant aroma to it, many different forest scents mingle in this area of low ground. Patches of blue sky and white clouds reflect off the pool surfaces as you make your way over large, dark coloured boulders while avoiding the slippery, algae covered spots. The valley narrows gradually and the path you pick through the woods slowly heads up to higher ground. After a time you can occasionally see larger patches of exquisite blue sky. After a couple of hours of hiking, enough to make you sweat but still a very enjoyable walk, you reach a sort of ridge shaded over with Big Leaf Maples and tall Cedars. The deer trails just beyond criss-cross each other on a small plateau with ferns, salal and mounds of moss all around; you choose one of the more distinct trails and head inland further still. After several more minutes of hiking the forest canopy gradually lightens and then suddenly is open.

You are at the western edge of a very wide and shallow valley. Looking at the distant hills and mountains beyond you can observe the sea fogs turned into clouds pushed up against them and hovering just below their peaks. Here before you, in the lee of the weather system, behind the tall Cedars and several hillocks which you had made your way around and through you can see it is pleasantly sunny. The stream you had been following is now a marsh off to you right, dotted with bright yellow skunk cabbages, many reeds of various species and several dead trees standing in the dark shallows. The water is relatively clear but looks dark from a low angle because of the thick mat of rotted vegetation a couple of feet down. Following a relatively bare bank under more widely spaced, shorter coniferous trees and the odd fallen trunk you make your way into the valley. About another half an hour later there are larger clearings and even meadows slightly uphill from the bank you have been walking along. Stopping in one of the meadows you stand perfectly still and simply absorb what is around you. Something about the vegetation is a little different here. Walking closer to the rough circle of shrubs and trees around you notice a few species which you have not seen before anywhere along the coast. Some seem to be flowers and bushes of more domesticated varieties. The Ravens here speak in a different tone and utter 'new words' to your ears. There is simply a unique feel to this spot. Several yards back of the clearing is a slightly smaller stream than the one down hill nearer to the sea. There is a relatively dry log nearby where you sit down and eat the lunch you brought along. You sigh and are at utter peace with everything here and with all in your life. Even if a bear were to show up at the forest edge you would not care, after all you know they are usually only a threat if they are very hungry, irritated by human provocation or if you are too close to a mother's cub. Behind the log is an area of dry leaves and fern fronds. You lie down and take a nap. Waking a few times only briefly enough to realize the warm air and to hear a few buzzing insects, you dream of other amazing places you have been to in years gone by. One is a beach you were at as a toddler with your parents on the west coast of Vancouver Island. At the time the view along the dry sand and over the light green bushes with the bright hot sun behind looked practically tropical. Several years later you could not help wondering "How the heck did I know about the tropics when I was a very young child?" Could it be a feeling related to a possible past life experience? Suddenly you wake and see the sun has advanced a fair bit across the sky, a couple of hours worth at least. Getting up you brush a few leaves away, gather your things and make your way back to the lower edge of the meadow. You turn around and carefully look over this amazing haven in the midst of nature once more.

Beyond the ridge, on the way back down the stream by the pools you wonder if this place where you lunched and slept may have been a Native settlement in times gone by. "How far back?" you muse. "A few years, decades or even centuries?" Back at the rubber raft and on the way over to the sailing boat you realize what a very magical place this whole valley is. You intend to come back sometime again. As a matter of fact, you decide to stay the night on board the boat and to do some more exploring tomorrow. Who knows, maybe there are some petroglyphs on the bluffs, a totem pole somewhere in the trees along this beach or an artifact of some kind which Natives of a previous settlement may have left lying amongst the deep, dark mosses...