Otherland: Beautiful Mine

“Feels good just to be alive

On a day like today

I see the world through different eyes

On a day like today

Sometimes all the stars align

And everything is okay

And everybody says ‘Hey’

On a day like today”

(On A Day Like Today, Amy Sky 2012)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C_qC_3xMGm8

It is difficult to embrace beauty when life is so ugly. It can be a challenge just to face each moment, even without all the pressure we place upon ourselves to seize the day and appreciate one’s lot in life. Gratitude is a conscious choice. I am not sure I would feel the same way I do about living if I had not been encouraged by experience to do just that. Life is dark, volatile and very unattractive at times. Life is also rich, and wondrous and good for the soul. I guess you get what you pay for. Still, I find myself refreshed and able to go on better after witnessing great beauty. Something moves within me and I wish to linger in that place. My entire life, I have had little reason to embrace the world around me so any reasons that I do have tend to make it all worthwhile. There are times when the grandness of nature and the creativity of mankind leave me breathless. When I come face to face with something inspirational, I am reminded that there is more to this life than we know. All you have to do is look around you and you can see it. You can feel it. It is often quite a powerful thing. Sometimes you have to let life flow over you, stopping only to see what is before you rather than beyond or behind you. I now wish for those moments of awe. I search out the view, whether in the city or on a country road or sitting beneath all those stars. This world sometimes takes me away. It is an otherland unto itself. More often than not, there is beauty in all that I see.

I had to wait almost 3 years before I was allowed to take the plunge. I had been permitted on the 5 metre board but the 10 metre board would have to wait until I grew. I am a swimmer, I always have been and, to be clear, have always been very strong and able when it comes to the water. Years later, I completed my instructor’s certificate and could have been a lifeguard had I chosen to be. Swimming has little to do with diving. Although I had no real training, I wanted to climb up to that 10 metre platform so bad I could taste it. The Donald D. Summerville Olympic Pool offered multiple swimming areas but the monolith in question garnered all my attention. Located along the shoreline of Lake Ontario, this Toronto recreational centre sits only a few seconds away from the sand. I started my ascension like any prepubescent boy would. I had trepidation but it only made me want it more. Up I went, stair after stair. I walked out on the diving platform, right to the edge so I could jump. I was fearless. In a heartbeat, I was overtaken. The view of the lake and miles of beachfront mingled with the Toronto Islands in the background. The panorama stretched off into the distance. I had never seen anything so beautiful, so lovely. It moved me despite my youth. I just stood there as the lineup behind me started to back up down the staircase. All of a sudden, someone shouted, “Hey kid, are you gonna jump or what?” So I did.

My family lived in the Greater Toronto Area in the 1960s and 1970s. At the time, you could not see the downtown core of the actual city from where we were located in the suburbs. From our vantage point in North York, the horizon was rather empty. In the summer of 1973, the city of Toronto began building the CN Tower. For years, one could look out on the distance and witness the rising. Bit by bit, little by little, it rose from invisible to unavoidable. They finally finished on April 2^nd, 1975 although the Tower did not open to the public until June 1976. For almost two years, I watched in wonder as the obelisk-like column arose from what appeared to be nothing. I could hardly wait to see it in person. We moved from Toronto to Strathroy in August of 1976 and I was unable to experience the Tower up close and personal. I did not get the chance to return to my hometown until spring of 1981. The English department from my high school organized a trip to Toronto and we set off to the city to watch Macbeth at the then-O’Keefe Centre. The play starred Glenda Jackson and Christopher Plumber and remains the most cherished work I have seen in live theatre. It was stunning and kept me captive the entire time. When the drama was done, we all headed a few blocks away to stand at the base of the CN Tower. I was almost tearful that the moment had arrived. Finally, my ever evolving friend would rest before me. I was not disappointed. I stood with my head tilted up for as long as they would let me. I even reached out and touched the thing. It may have been made of concrete and steel but it was beautiful just the same. I have stood beneath that structure 1000 times since then. Every time, I am amazed at the magnificence and beauty of such a construction. I am bewildered, not so much by the idea of it rather by the actual physical structure itself. It confirms my faith that men can do anything if we set our minds to it. We can even reach for the stars.

Algonquin Provincial Park is approximately 280 kilometres north of Toronto. Located in south-eastern Ontario, Canada, the playground covers 7,653 km² and was established as a Provincial Park in 1893. Named a National Historic Site of Canada in 1992, the designation recognized the area as the oldest Provincial Park in Canada. The vastness of the park’s interior holds escarpment, thousands of lakes and a wildness not known in the city. With over 2400 bodies of water, the area attracts day-trippers and campers alike. We signed in to the cottage. With 5 children, my parents had piled into that old red Volkswagen van and we rode from Strathroy, past the big city and arrived at our new home away from home. It was a quaint motel disguised as an outpost. It was surrounded on all sides by the tremendous forest that is the park. On the next day, we hiked. Beaver Trail is but one of the multiple hiking paths you can adventure on. The group of us headed into the dense to discover the view. We trudged, not an easy feat, considering. My youngest brother was disabled at birth but my father managed to carry him on the entire journey. At the top, there was great beauty. One might have imagined that this panorama would be the highlight of this trip for me, but it was not. If nothing else, nature is unpredictable and consistently surprising. With the intent of beating the morning rush, we got up at 5 AM and were ready to leave around 6 AM. As we finished packing the car, it roared. Just down the way stood this enormous beast. I had not encountered such a large animal before. It was as big as my childhood ego. We all stood in wonder. The silence was encompassing and the moose started to move towards us. It was this moment that I remember the most. There was a magnificence to the creature I had not witnessed with the deer and livestock I had seen. It took my breath away, it really did. Such literal beauty I have rarely encountered again. This experience was pure childhood joy. It took me and it took me well. The entire time, as the moose moved about, I kept looking for that damn squirrel.

The first time I saw an ocean was in August of 1976. The trip to get there was almost as significant. From Toronto to Rexton, New Brunswick runs around 1450 kilometres. We travelled right up the St. Lawrence seaway. I spied with my childhood eyes, whales swimming along beside us. Several very white beluga whales bobbed in and out of the stream. Later, a school of Atlantic white-sided dolphins approached the sea as we did. They dodged and weaved and skimmed across the water. I just sat in the van as it sped along and I gazed at all that wonder. The day after our arrival in Rexton, we headed down to the beach at last. My toes dipped in and I was thrilled. Not even the hundreds of dead jellyfish down the shore could sully my indoctrination. Actually, I walked alone through that sea of jellyfish. It was humbling to witness such death, such randomness and such capriciousness. To go from having witnessed the glory of those whales of August, to the graveyard before me, was a little overwhelming. Sometimes such adult notions are not always comfortable for a growing boy. I just kept walking until the carcasses ran out. I had no idea how far I had travelled on my quest. I turned around and headed back from whence I had come. The sight of it all stopped me. In this southern direction, the skyline completely changed. The bluffs in the distance seemed mere reflection of the sand below. The entire sightline was filled by it. It seemed to stretch on forever and ever. I have never forgotten that moment and I pray I never do. Apparently, in life there is beauty and there is even a sad beauty to death, although they are not exclusive to each other.

While the east coast granted my first dip into the ocean, it was the west coast that cemented my love of the sea. From the Gulf of Mexico to Hudson Bay, I have rarely been more enchanted than while watching the waves. Only a starry sky could ever compete. More often than not, I would swim in each just to say that I had. I had already done the whole “beach thing” while vacationing in Los Angeles. I had some idea just what lied in waiting. With Hollywood out of the way, I could focus on my true direction. There is a scene from the movie Foul Play (1978), starring Goldie Hawn and Chevy Chase, that always captivated me. The song, Ready to Take the Chance Again (Barry Manilow), plays over the opening credits as Goldie and her yellow Volkswagen Bug head down the California coastline. I remember watching that intro over and over again on the VCR. It left me longing. I also noticed the backdrop to several scenes from the original Planet of the Apes franchise. Hard cliffs and secluded beaches simply made me want it all the more. We got to Big Sur and we checked in at my friend James’ place. It was on loan thanks to his friends and we settled in for a few days of rest and relaxation. The noise of city living did not follow me here. The abundant forests covered almost every square inch of land. Roads dissected one area from another. We sat on the beach and we admired the scene. For hours, we danced with the late afternoon sun. As darkness approached, the moon shone brighter and the depth of shadow fell across the water. Suddenly, as if by magic, the moon reflected and the sand turned into the color purple. It was so beautiful and so moving that I cried a little, sitting on the beach watching the landscape become like a lavender blanket. I have seen a lot of things on my travels. I have witnessed such beauty, such majesty but nothing has even come close to the experience I had that evening. I just sat there, my jaw dropped almost to my rib cage. The experience moved me. A storm started to move in and the moon disappeared from over the Northern California sky. I cannot remember the last time I was witness to something so beautiful, so fulfilling. Even the fading of it left me speechless, sitting there breathing, watching the dimming of the day.

I have been through New York City several times over the years. I never stayed for long as I was usually travelling though Manhattan by train or Greyhound bus. My first memory of the place is grand and spectacular and energizing. The George Washington Bridge ferried me into this unknown. Heading across the Hudson River made me feel like I was sojourning into someplace surreal, someplace where the mythos ruled the reality. As we approached the crossing, I felt like I was dropping by rollercoaster. My heart beat loud in my head, and for a moment I lost my breath. I couldn’t absorb what was before me. I had always dreamed of this place, and how it would feel to go there and be part of a New York State of Mind. The city laid out just beyond the bridge. The view seemed to be all encompassing and I felt like a 10 year old discovering a stash of money. I could not believe my eyes. It was beautiful, and almost everything about it was intact. In the distance still stood the Twin Towers, nestled by sight to the Empire State Building. I noticed these icons right away. They floated in a sea of metal and glass and time. The entire skyline looked overcrowded and stuffed together. I have never forgotten my welcome to that city. I am convinced that I felt the same sense of wonder, every time I went to hang out in Gotham. I was driven to see this site but it was experiencing it that really made all the difference. Not even Toronto, with the CN Tower, SkyDome and 200 years of progress can match the awe-inspiring quality of the New York City skyline. My bucket list has only a few remaining tasks I need to complete before death takes me to a new set. Christmas in New York would be a dream come true for me and my partner. Unfortunately, any trip to the United States will have to wait until President Trump has been demoted or impeached. It’s a matter of principle regardless of how one might feel about the view. It will have to wait like I do.

The most comforting part of my parents’ home has always been the night sky.

The town of Strathroy is located 40 kilometres west of London, Canada. It rests in the heart of south-western Ontario and lies approximately 70 kilometres from the United States border. There is little city glow out in the country. Despite development over the last decade, the evening sky still darkens and the stars still come out to play. The backyard of my youth introduced me to the wonders of this universe. I remember spending warm summer nights lying on a sleeping bag with my siblings staring at the vastness of space. While the stars changed with the season, the view of them never did. It was deep, clear and glorious and remains always surprising. Come August (the 11^th through the 13^th) and the Perseid meteor shower was revealed in predawn splendour. Perhaps the most inviting part of that backyard is the depth of the scenery. You could see glimpses of our galaxy mixed with distant stars and all those asteroids. Every night, weather permitting, the sky was filled with them. In 1997, the Hail Bopp comet sat so clear in the night sky that you could see the tail burning away. My admiration is cumulative. I have been sent into wonder so many times out back that I often think there is nothing more beautiful than the night sky of my family. Not even the ocean can measure up to the sheer magnificence of the ether. Anytime I have taken the time, I am spellbound and rather lost in it. Yes, the sky at night varies from place to place. What someone in Sydney, Australia sees in the heavens we never will, not by our own device at any rate. I have laid out under the stars all over North America. I have seen pieces of this universe most people will never get the chance to. The stars at night really do shine bright, deep in the heart of Texas. In the city, not so much. My friend James, who just moved back to Ontario from San Francisco, had not seen the North Star or Big Dipper in over a decade. He claims to have been clouded to their beauty due to all the city glow. I rarely make it to my folks’ place during the evening hours. My visits usually consist of a day trip. I miss that sky. I have my very own now. Life is Paris, Ontario is rich and so is the view. It may well have been dimmed by the stupid street light at the end of our driveway but out in the yard, you still get the full gamut. Once again, I am lucky to be taken away. I am still overcome by the beauty of it all. Each glimmer still takes my breath away. This world holds great beauty and home is were the start is.

It’s about 60 kilometres from our home in Paris to Selkirk, Ontario. Near the defunct Nanticoke coal plant, Selkirk, a small country village, is not a destination so much as a point along the way. Located just north of Lake Erie, it is here that you head south towards the water. One last turn and then the tour begins. Stretching out for more than 30 kilometres, Lakeshore Road is an enchanting and quaint thoroughfare. It is a cottager’s wet dream. Kilometre after kilometre, rows of little cottages blend in with enormous million dollar homes and the lake itself. Unlike Grand Bend or Port Burwell, one does not travel here with the intention of swimming. You couldn’t if you wanted to. Everything here is private, private, private. All the way down you would be hard pressed to even find a spot to pull over. Apparently, it’s an exclusive club with thousands of members. This jaunt is all about the scenery and the amalgamation of man and nature. This stretch of road is littered with visitors of all shapes and sizes. The background sometimes roars and sometimes lies quiet, but it is always there, waiting for recognition. The rest is overcrowding. It would be difficult to find one green space that didn’t belong to someone. It can seem quite cluttered but it is a lovely mess. Many an abode stands against the great lake behind them. Little nooks act like refuge that some stranger will never know. The road runs until the road runs out. Along the way, the unification of man and nature is clear. Some of this and some of that makes the experience a beautiful thing every time my partner and I visit. It sort of calls to us. We revisit this area at least twice a year. It makes for a great day trip and a better memoir.

It’s a beautiful world. Quite often, it can feel like all that bounty is mine alone to behold. I have never been one not to notice. I was always just a little more aware than a regular Joe would be. I have had many more moments with this type of beauty than I can recollect. There have been so many that my mind could not possibly remember them all. It is the greatest effect that holds the greatest recall. It has always been this way for me. It is not so much what I see but rather how it makes me feel. I spent the latter part of my youth trying to capture the wonders of North America. I travelled across the United States and Canada in an attempt to entertain myself. I even managed to drop into Mexico for an afternoon. I am home now. It is quiet and peaceful and there I am well with my soul. It is familiar, this feeling I get. Whether sipping coffee on my front porch or sitting around the pit with Ben and a bag of marshmallows, each moment has its own beauty. If it wasn’t for this beauty, both natural and man-made, I do not believe I would have made it through. They energize me. Without them, there would be little to hold my breath for. Such exposure always lifted me up, each and every time. It restored my faith in something more. Each glimpse is now a mere reaction to where I have been and what I have seen. It has all been so beautiful and it has all been mine. You do not need some otherland to appreciate your life. Look around, there lies the exquisite in all our misery. There is more to this world than we know. The view can bring you to life. It reminds me that the one sure way to survive almost anything is by noticing everything.

“If you see the moon

Rising gently on your fields

If the wind blows softly on your face

If the sunset lingers

While the cathedral bells peal

And the moon has risen to her place

You can thank the Father

For the things that He has done

Thank Him for the things He’s yet to do

And if you find a love that’s tender

If you find someone who’s true

Thank the Lord