When Your Happy Place is Not

 

We decided, like a record number of families this summer, to escape the drama of the past year, to break out of sheltering at home, and to try to have a bit of adventure, a bit of fun. We chose a spot on Lake Ontario because it was not far from our home, and because it was remote and wouldn’t be crowded. We were happy to have something to look forward to in these difficult and confusing times.
We’d never been to visit this part of the world before and were struck by the beauty of the lake. We sat and stared at it for hours. 

 

But the shoreline near our cabin didn’t look anything like the photos on the rental website; all along its slim length were trees laying on their side at regular intervals. Apparently, this area had lived through 2 major flood seasons, and the forces of wind, water and erosion were too much for these trees. As we walked along the beach we had to duck under or climb over the downed trees- they were unavoidable. As we walked, I noticed myself trying not to be disappointed that our vacation which was supposed to give us a break from worry and sadness instead surrounded us with signs of trauma to the land. I counseled myself that of course there is no place on earth that has not known trauma, has not known loss. This year has been marked by disappointed expectations, rapidly changing plans, uncertainty, improbably weather and resurgence of the pandemic. I began to feel a sense of compassion, a sense of connectedness to the people and the ecosystem of this lakeside community. I let my own disappointment increase my sense of connection - surely the people who lived here were broken hearted about the damage to their beautiful home. Undoubtedly, they faced financial hardships because of the floods and the pandemic as well. Compassion opened my heart.

As we walked, I began to see the beauty of these trees, the beauty of the branches washed by waves as they lay in the water, taking on the lovely texture and shape of driftwood even while still part of the tree, of the exposed root ball partly rooted in the sand. And rising into the air, above the reach of waves, the life affirming beauty of branches with fresh green leaves. Even though my vacation was not the getaway from trouble we had imagined, there was life here, there was beauty here, even a sense of adventure as we clambered over the trunks.

If you are not having the summer you expected, know that you are not alone. Folks all over the country, all over the world, are having similar experiences as memories of fun summers past come up against the often-challenging realities of this moment. I think especially of friends stuck at home due to illness or financial hardship, of folks watching the summer through the window of a medical facility. If that is happening for you, know that it is okay to be disappointed, okay to be frustrated or sad. Know that you are not alone. I encourage you to let your heart remember all those who are struggling in this very moment. Perhaps you can notice your connectedness to the people and living beings where you are right now through the sometimes-challenging experiences you are sharing. Perhaps you might notice life’s persistence and abundance in the face of such challenges. Maybe you will catch a glimpse of the beauty found not only in the verdant greenery of new life, but in turmoil and loss as well- the beautiful texture of driftwood, of seashells tossed on the shore, the voice of a loved one. May compassion open your heart to the vibrancy, power, beauty and life of this present moment wherever you find yourself.