My Quiet Spot

Been a while since my last blog, I really need to sit down more to write on this thing.

Well...as the psychics might say, better latent than never.

Today's talk is about "Finding that quiet spot".

When people talk about meditation or relaxation, they often mention the idea of 'finding' your quiet spot, and dwelling on it. That doesn't mean where you are sitting at the moment, so that might be important, but where you put your 'mind'.

I think that this 'quiet spot' is important no matter what you claim to be doing...be it relaxing, meditating or just zonin' out, you've got have a vacation spot for your mind and soul, and know it and feel enough to own that spot.

My 'quiet spot' is no big secret and isn't any fantastic magical island in the middle of paradise. It's just a small beach located with in Allenville, a small village near Parsboro, in Nova Scotia, Canada.

You know what gets to me in my travels? The little knowledge most people in the world have about Nova Scotia in the world. Mention Canada to most people, and you'll hear the 'big cities' mentioned: Toronto, Vancouver, Montreal. But none of these places are anywhere near where I live. I have to explain every time that Nova Scotia is on the East Coast, and that it's just as...if not more...beautiful than those huge cities everyone wants to visit.

The Maritimes, as we call these eastern provinces of Canada, ARE beautiful. Not just Nova Scotia and Cape Breton (God Bless you, Rita, wherever you are), but Newfoundland, Prince Edward Island and New Brunswick too. All four of these provinces have such an authentic natural beauty. But it's Nova Scotia that was my home for the biggest part of my life...and the one that lives burning in my heart.

As Lady Rita herself once sang,

"She grows on you slowly
The first time you meet
There's just so much beauty
The heart can believe
And you want to stay longer
And she's ever so pleased
You're one of the many who don't
Want to leave

So walk through her green field
Go down to the sea
The fortune in your eyes
Is more like a dream
She's called Nova Scotia
And she so makes you feel
You've discovered a treasure
No other has seen"

You said it Rita...better than I ever could.

Anyways...in this province, there is a small town near the coast called Allenville, named after my mom's side of the family. It's a rustic small area and certainly no one's going to accuse of it being modern and with the times...but that's why I love it. It's homey...its authentic.

Down a long series of hills, there is a small two story cottage that my grandfather, Douglas Darrell Skidmore built so many years ago. Now adays, they have running water and TV running on electricity with fancy electric lights. But in my day, we didn't have all that, and we even had an outdoor outhouse that we used - luckily we only visited during the summer I guess.

Imagine walking down a swirling path of trees, firs, elks, elms, and seeing the leaves bristle around you, nothing else making a sound around you, as you make your way down the steep path, then you see a small rustic brown cottage. It isn't much of nothing..but there's smoke coming out of the chimney and pleasant smells coming out of the windows.

Keep walking by that...walking down the hill, passing under the large porch hanging out the back of the cottage, dried seaweed hanging off the edges and blankets drying out... Walk further down to an old ricketty wooden bridge passing over a small ditch covered by long grass and pussywillows

Now you find yourself on the beach. here you see a series of sandbars in front of you, and sprawling rock cliffs to your left and right, and basically you see you are surrounded by water on all sides. The sand is crunching as you walk along and you see the many creatures of mystery which have come to haunt the shores disguised as driftwood, lying spent on the shore after their long hours of mystical journeying. There is water, sand, rocks and that's it.

Nothing more...save ..in the distance, in one direction....a voice of a man I loved so long ago..and still do...singing these words...

The sun was setting in the west
The birds were singing on every tree
All nature seemed inclined for to rest
But still there was no rest for me.

Farewell to Nova Scotia, you sea-bound coast
Let your mountains dark and dreary be
For when I am far away on the briny ocean tossed
Will you ever heave a sigh and a wish for me?

That's where you'll find me...and my soul. And someday, I will return there for good...and sing once again with that old man...when I take my final walk down the shores of Allenville.

Keep on dreamin'.

Douglas.