Rain-soaked Inspiration

The rain began dripping from the heavens nearly two weeks ago and shows little sign of letting up soon. Those who fear to venture outside during the wet season will never know the crisp contrasts of a rain soaked forest; greens and browns so vibrant that you half expect the colour to drip right off the leaves. All throughout the trees you can hear the patter of raindrops trickling through the canopy. Each little bead of moisture contributing to the puddles and runnels of water which snake along the paths, forcing you into a game of hopscotch to keep your feet dry.

Each day I walk the path to work I can’t help but smile as I peer through the mists to see the Tantalus range peeking out from behind a cloud. It’s snowing up there, and will soon see massive accumulations, but we’ll go without. We’ve been warned about winter in Squamish; the town of damp chills and ice rain, but we’re ready for it. It’s the daydreaming season. It’s the time when we can plan out future travels to warmer climates and picture ourselves basking in the languid humidity of a tropical beach. Well stocked with wood, we’re glad for the fireplace. When the dampness gets to be too much then we’ll drag the couch over in front of a cheery blaze and enjoy some quiet time wrapped up in blankets and books.

Some find it too dreary, but maybe it’s just that they can’t stand to be alone with themselves. I find myself looking forward to dark days, the perfect excuse for spending a guilt free afternoon pecking at my keyboard rather than feeling as though I should heed the call of the surrounding mountain paths. There will be days when a tromp through the woods will be in order, rain or no rain, but there will also be days for wandering the trails of my imagination. The scenery here is so beautiful that you can’t help but be inspired to write. I find myself composing thoughts and forming inspiring phrases each time I look around and see the lush greenery or startling mountain vistas. There’s a sense of something powerful here. Something in the way the wind whispers through the valley and swirls about your head, tussling your hair and leaving ghosts of ideas in its wake. They are there for the taking, all I have to do is reach out and grab them. Once I have one in my grasp then I must try to keep it there, although my efforts are often in vain as these thoughts are flighty by nature and are often whisked away with the evening breeze, returning from whence they came.

Occasionally one of these whisps leaves an imprint in the back of my vision. If I strain a little bit and look at it just the right way, then I can often make it out and mold it into something of my own, something to be proud of. This place provides answers for many of my unanswered questions, yet more importantly, it teaches me to find my own when I’ve moved on from here.

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1. When Your Mind’s Made Up