It was a day of rest. A day to savour time by the fire. Chatting. Reading. Playing crib. (I won’t mention the fact C.C. skunked me! Cad! đ ) And, a day to appreciate the power of nature and the benefits of electricity.
It was at 2pm the lights flickered and then went out. Completely. For almost 3 hours, a large swathe of Vancouver Island was without power. Storm. Power surges. Faulty lines. Not sure what the problem was but it was rather exciting for a while with just the fire and candles to add light in the storm.
Inside, at The Lodge at Middle Beach, we were warm and cozy. Outside the winds howled. The surf surged and trees danced in the storm.
By 5pm the power began to reappear. On. Off. Until after about 10 attempts, it stayed on.
I had taken a walk on the beach earlier. The wind blew fiercely. The waves roared and the tide crashed against the shoreline. Within fifteen minutes, the path Iâd taken along the beach was awash and I had to find the high tide trail back. It was wild and beautiful and intoxicating.
When I returned, my pants were soaked but my upper body was dry as I had worn one of the bright yellow slickers the Lodge provides. 
I felt exhilarated. Revived by the wind and sea and salt air.
This morning, the storm has died down. The skies are a misty grey, white flecks dotted with blue struggle to break through. Rain still falls. Soft and gentle, not the skin prickling sensations of yesterday.
The power is on.
We had a delicious dinner last night in The Great Room at Longbeach Lodge. Their generator had kept the kitchen running, albeit at limited capacity, throughout the afternoon and by 8pm when we arrived, everything was back on. We chatted and listened to the waves and savoured the delectable food and toasted our ‘togetherness’.
And my heart expanded, my breath deepened and my thinking mind drifted effortlessly into silence.
Inside me, I feel the ebb and flow of the waves pulling me into stillness. I feel myself slowing down, once again becoming attuned to my heartbeat, the blood flowing through my veins, the feeling of my bones grounded in space and time, connected to the ‘everythingness’ that is all around.
I breathe. In. Out.
I feel my breath move throughout my body. Energizing. Life-giving. Connected.
I feel my breath move down, down, down into my legs. Into my feet. Tingling against my soles. I feel it move through me into the ground beneath me. And I say a silent prayer of gratitude.
My body is present. I am aware. Alive. Awed.
Outside the wind continues to howl.
Inside, I am rested. Peaceful. Connected. Present.
Life is an adventure. Life is grand.
And so, I wrote him a love poem apology and committed to getting my expectations out of the way.
On that day, I was the example to show them how powerful the questions are, and how beautiful a journey writing your purpose statement can be.
Once upon a time, I thought being in relationship meant I had to change who I am to fit who I was with.
When we arrived, the early evening sun was streaming in through the garage door windows that were rolled up to allow access to the front patio where several people were enjoying the heat and their meals. Having just returned from southern California and Palm Springs, C.C. wasn’t up to anymore sun and heat so we sat deeper inside at a table next to the bar. We were two of max 30 patrons scattered around the place. There’s a fancy long bar and a couple of pool tables in the back next to a room with VLTs. Beside our table there was a giant Jenga set and a DJ station set up against the wall.
“I’m awful at music trivia,” I tell uber competitive C.C.
