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Tofino time :

To be human, is to be.

      

   "...I was compelled to head out one cold and miserable February day from Vancouver, towards my haven on the coast- Flores Island. It took me two full days of hitchhiking and bussing to finally make it to the little hamlet of Tofino where I caught a Native-operated water-taxi out to the island. Upon arriving, just as the sun was going down, I began a two-hour hike to the far, wave-beaten west coast, and the destination of my pilgrimage.

                I remember the darkness and mist falling upon me as I slogged onward and entered the last part of the trail leading to a secluded beach where few others ever came, and so it remained a natural bastion of isolation and purity. And I remember that only a few hundred metres into the bush my flashlight went dead. And I remember at first stumbling about trying to refind the trail, and not being able to find it, and then spinning around thinking I could hear the ocean, and following the sound, then realizing it was only the wind in the trees, which meant I had been flailing in an unknown direction, and then I began stumbling through marsh and swamp, and climbing over endless deadfall and through ferns and salal, and imagining what a torturous night it was going to be in this wet and freezing west-coast jungle. And I remember finally coming to a stand-still from lostness and exhaustion, and leaning against a great tree, and looking up to the heavens, and uttering the words I suppose I was meant to utter from the outset of my journey- “OK, OK, you’ve got me now.” And I gave up. And I remember how in the moment of that acceptance and surrender I was as if wiped clean, as if the prodigal part of me had been returned again to the home of my beginnings, and I was reunited with the source again, and suddenly without thinking or questioning, or wondering about direction or distance, I started off going again, with a newfound determination through the undergrowth, for I had returned to the spirit by giving up the ghost. And I remember finally making it through to the edge of the forest, and stepping out onto a darkened beach, and realizing that I had come out just a few feet away from where I had intended to end up, and despite my frantic confusion I had been guided through it all along, and all I had needed to do was surrender and allow it to be so. And I remember the cheers of gratitude and relief that leapt out of my mouth right then, flying off into the empty night for no one to hear but the trees, the ocean, my God and me.

                And then I remember arising early the next morning, and feeling that I had still some fight and unpeace left within me, and in the damp and bite of the west-coast winter I set off down the massive beach, as I had done in this very place so many times before, walking up and down to beat the taint and thickness out of me. And somewhere along the middle of the day I remember turning to face the ocean, and in the empty, capitulative openness which comes from such solipsistic mortifications, throwing up my arms and asking why I had needed to come all the way out here, again, why had I to face the loneliness and discomfort again, why I had been told- “Get ye to the sea my son”, again. And I remember how obvious and easily the answer wafted through my mind; a simple answer, one that a child could have told me, but an answer I would not have understood until I had been whipped and frozen by the world, had lain down and been lifted up and lain down again because I could not do what I was supposed to do, which was the answer to my lostness all along, and the answer was- “Just Be!”

   And as I fell softly into the rhythm of myself once again, and calmly began to walk along the beach, I realized my lesson was over. And I strolled back to camp, packed up my belongings, and prepared to venture forth again into the world of men from which I had just been driven, only a day earlier, but now I came back to share the commandment which had been spoken to me from the sky- “Just Be!”

                For there is no moment, no event, no grain of sand, no laughter, no death or healing, no thought or feeling, no tear or yearning out of place. The cosmos is eternally complete. There is no problem if only we would just be. That is all that is asked of us. As simple, and difficult, as that."

 

Excerpted from ROOTS AND WINGS: adventures of a spirit on earth, by Jack Haas           

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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