Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Noticing

When I first moved to Cortes Island, I promised myself I’d never stop noticing the wonders of this place: being able to walk by the ocean every day, seeing seals and eagles. Walking to the lagoon to dig clams and pick oysters. And I moved from Winnipeg so I didn’t want to stop noticing being able to breathe in winter without a wool scarf. In fact, I keep an empty corner in the storage room where my boots, parka, mits, toques, jumper cables, antifreeze, snow shovel and mosquito repellent should be stored. I love that empty corner. I notice that corner.
          I also didn’t want to stop noticing the changes to my lifestyle. What was once a 30 minute drive to work with a cardboard cup of coffee, has become a five minute walk up the hill with a mason jar of Roibos tea. I used to swim in chlorine for an hour – 40 laps  –  then spend an hour getting the chlorine out of my pores, my hair, my swimsuit. Now I swim an hour in a lake with water so clean I can drink it. Just one lap – around the island and home again. No products necessary. No swimsuit necessary.
          But you know, noticing takes some effort. Daily life is what it is and eventually things begin to slide under the radar undetected.  Sometimes I worry that I might be losing my perspective. Let me give you an example.
          A while back, my friend Patty and I decided to go to a dance at the Gorge hall on the other side of the island. She called up her buddy Tom to ask if she could borrow the car he’s always talking about but never actually driving anywhere.
          Sure, he said. It’ll be in the parking lot of the Tak – it’s green. Help yourself.
          On Saturday, I met Patty at the Tak and she led me to a green Ford of undetermined age, whose keys dangled merrily from the ignition. We struck out and were over half way to the Gorge when we came across Jake and Silent Bill hitch hiking.
         Need a lift to the dance?
Yup. Who’s car? Jake asked.
Tom’s.
You sure?
Patty and I looked at each other. You sure? I asked her.
Jake’s head was out the window, scrutinizing the outside of the vehicle. This car looks a lot like Valerie’s, he said. Silent Bill nodded vigorously.
Who?
You know Val, who works at the Tak.
Patty reached across me and rifled through the glove box until she came up with a registration.
Oops, she said. We took the wrong car. She sucked the inside of her cheek for a moment. Well, the closest phone is at the Gorge. She put Val’s car into gear and pulled back onto the road.
At the hall, I wandered off while Patty called the Tak on the payphone. When she rejoined me, I asked what happened.
We have to put it back where we found it. By tomorrow morning.
Sounds good, I said, spilling a bit of roibois tea from my mason jar onto the dance floor as my knees were clipped by a naked toddler chasing a dog.
Do you notice anything weird about all this? I asked Patty.
Na, she said. That’s how it always smells. It’s patchouli.