Yesterday I enjoyed my first outing in 13 weeks. Thirteen weeks!!! Can you imagine? True that I was not alone, but the euphoria was every bit as wonderful as if I was.
Whilst confined to quarters, I decided to embrace my new (self-assigned) role as a pseudo-sociologist; after writing about “Third Spaces” last week, I’m pivoting this week to “Blue Spaces.” There’s nothing like being stuck in these four walls to make me appreciate the revitalizing power of a water view — or to start using academic jargon to describe a simple walk by the lake.
Ring-billed Gulls (Larus delawarensis)
I usually have this beach to myself, but not yesterday!
My love for water began in childhood, shaped by quiet Sundays with my Dad. For hours on end, we would hike the trails of Wilket’s Creek Park or, descending the rickety wooden steps at Fallingbrook, walk the beach beneath the Scarborough Bluffs. Together we found a rare, perfect happiness. Whether we were playing Pooh Sticks in the rushing creek or paddling in Lake Ontario, it was pure, shared bliss, a bliss that never left me. To this day, whenever the world feels heavy, the water is where I return, time and again.
In fact, leisure time spent beside, in, or on the water — called “Blue Spaces” — is, for most folks, very peaceful and restorative. So it is for me. It doesn’t matter if the water is a calm pond, a babbling brook, a slowly drifting creek, or a choppy lake, a feeling of serenity seeps into me slowly, quietly, and without me even noticing it at first. There’s nothing quite like this experience; how water’s presence slows my breathing, clears my mind and breathes grace back into my soul.
This summer my health has made it unsafe for me to go out alone with my camera. Being confined to the house has been deeply frustrating and demoralizing, which is why my time by the water on Wednesday afternoon was so vital to me. Being taken out to spend time in a beloved blue space was a profound relief. It allowed me to break free from those limitations and simply experience the pure joy of the landscape again. A joy that came slowly and in waves.
Yesterday, standing in the perfect quiet, on the observation deck at Sanctuary Pond, the late afternoon water was like a liquid mirror. A single pebble broke the glassy surface and the concentric ripples moved like silent liquid echoes across the water. That’s how the calming effect of water works — as those visual echoes grow wider, so too does my feeling of tranquility, gradually filling my heart with peace.
I heartily encourage you to visit your own blue space this week, even if it’s just a small neighbourhood creek. Find a quiet spot to sit, and then use all your senses, and allow the water to work its wizardry on you too.
’Til next time, y’all…
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