Seeking a "tangible calm"...on the water, on the trail, in the moment.

Peace is all around us.

- Thich Nhat Hanh

Just before the snow began to fall here, on the Island(s), we had an unusually calm and tranquil sunny day. The sea state was still, as if in between all oceanic tidal movement. The air was still, as if in that effortless moment between exhalation and inhalation. All nature seemed still, as if in between the collective heartbeats of all creatures. Our minds were still...in anticipation of something changing.

But nothing changed...

A "tangible calm" so often seems to elude us. We may often miss out on the experience for much the same reason that we sometimes miss seeing the gaping pot hole in the middle of the road, even in the broad daylight. We've lost focus, and we've traded situation awareness in any given moment for whatever it is that we allow to distract us and hold our attention.

Driving, of course, demands that we focus on safe passage - and that's where our attention should be. When conditions allow, paddling, on the other hand, or walking in the forest, is not so demanding. We are able to "mosey" through time. Our "passage" can be leisurely, our thoughts less focused, our minds more receptive. That is why these self-propelled activities can be so rejuvenating.

It is my experience that we sometimes choose, often unwittingly, to block all access to the tangible calm. Anxiousness and anger, jealousy and regret, the drive to acquire and accumulate, usually serve only to separate us from what our hearts and spirits truly yearn. 

When we pause these distractions (and our busyness) long enough to connect with the natural world, something very beautiful happens. When we release ourselves from the grip of technology or separate ourselves from the intrusion of countless forms of media, we feel a gentle liberation. When we value and seek to find the best in ourselves...and especially in others, then our hearts open wide and we experience a warmth and a peace that comforts and strengthens. That feeling of warmth comes from the occasion of discovering that, indeed,  "peace is all around us" - we just have to let it in.

We experienced it on that day. You will have had similar experiences, I'm sure.

Duncan.

Pic: The Salish Sea, my Solstice kayak, north of Gabriola Island - and a very calm day.

Barefoot running on Vancouver Island snow...a bit of an exercise in humility!

The fact is, I just couldn't resist finding out what it would be like to run barefoot on the snow. Chalk it up to pure curiosity. And then, fortuitously, it snowed last night, We just don't get that much snow here on Canada's "Pacific Island". So yeah, finally, the long awaited opportunity! Those who assume my good sense should probably not read any further as this could definitely have some implications on employment status.

Oh well, it really was simply an irresistible occasion to satisfy a curiosity!

First, a little background: Yesterday, the temperature in the early morning was around 3 degrees C. It was raining and even though we were wearing Vibram FiveFingers and Injinji toe socks, our feet were a little chilly by the end of the 8 km loop. Remember folks, one becomes a little more sensitive to the "cold" after moving here to the Island. (Folks in Edmonton can now roll their eyes!) So yeah, by the end of the run, our feet were (a little) cold and wet, but not to the extent that we were uncomfortable. With regards to temperature, we ran in Seattle (in VFFs) last December when it was minus 6 degrees and it was quite manageable.

So after last night's snow, the opportunity to kick it up a notch was ready and waiting. Before going any further, I have to say (and this is not really an excuse), our snow here is not only cold, but it's wet, heavy, and very slippery. Ahh, some will think all snow is slippery. Not so...the "slipperiness" of snow is relative. In Alberta, for example, the snow can be light, feathery, "dry" and really quite a pleasure to run on (in running shoes). The light carpet of white stuff softens each foot step and offers hardly any resistance at all to forward momentum. And then, of course, you have the satisfaction of looking behind you and seeing, in your footsteps, proof positive that you are an intrepid, winter runner, the real thing. You are out there in the early morning hours, in the wind and the cold and the snow, while lesser "athletes" opt for a poor excuse, a fresh hot water bottle, and an extra hour of sleep. Sheesh!

So yes, here on the Island, our snow is far more challenging. It is, in fact, extraordinarily difficult to run on - even if you're wearing trail shoes! It's heavy, it's wet, and it's more like running in gumbo mud! It feels like it's grabbing you by the ankles and trying to pull you down! Vancouver Island snow elevates the heart rate, defies forward progress, and endangers your fragile balance with every foot fall (did I say fall?) - to such an extent that you are most often inclined to accept defeat and trudge home, feeling let down and discouraged - after all, you did make such effort to leave behind a warm bed long before the sun came up.

So, with all these facts clear, you will surely understand my experience.

First of all, my feet could find absolutely no traction in the wet and dense layer covering our driveway's asphalt. Second, the soles of my feet are not nearly as tough as I thought they were and my pain threshold is clearly lower than I had anticipated. Ouch, it was pretty darn cold! Third, Joan was laughing so hard that I began to feel somewhat diminished in spirit for this exercise. And fourth, I was very unsure about what it was I was trying to prove! Oh yeah, it was all about curiosity.

OK, so now I know. Running barefoot on the Vancouver Island snow is really tough! Now if it had been in less slippery, "drier" snow...? Hmm.