Erin's Journals

Just a thought… Be brave enough to be bad at something new. [Jon Acuff]

I was never that person. Never an athlete, but only an “okay, I guess I have to do this…” kind of gym-goer. I’ll never be a runner, and my idea of a long walk was putting in air pods, starting up my step counter and a favourite podcast, and heading out on the streets or roads of wherever I find myself these days. However, on Friday something in me shifted.

It was through the gentle persistence of a neighbour here on Pender Island, whose small, lithe body is the very picture of athleticism. An avid paddler (kayaking) and cyclist (definitely not an e-bike), Jenn is also a serious hiker. So when I arrived on the island Thursday evening to this text, I was hesitant.

“Orca Day? I’m in!” I said to Rob. But I’d done just part of that Shingle Bay park a week ago, found myself getting a little lost, saw that my step counter had me already at the equivalent of 37 flights of stairs and turned around to head back home. It seemed beyond my abilities and I knew that being out alone with just my phone and a terrible sense of direction, I should play within my limits.

I asked how long the walk would be and later determined Jenn hadn’t lied: about 8 km. With not just a little trepidation, I agreed on a meetup time and under filtered sunshine and with comfortable temperatures awaiting, I was ready to head out when I realized with horror that my hiking shoes were back in Sidney! I’d worn them home last Monday and then came back over in my Skechers. Ugh. They’re not exactly built for hiking over rocks and steep inclines and declines, but I wasn’t going to back out.

Off we went, through gentle short trails and brief stretches of paved country roads, eventually making it to the Pender Museum. There, we got to hear John Pender, an ancestor of the first non-Indigenous settler to the island, talk about his roots as well as the legends and firsthand sightings of giant sea serpents in our area. We heard a young Indigenous woman tell us the story of how the orca began as a wolf who, with the help of a raven, found his way into the sea and began life again there.

We listened in as a dozen or so locals sat in a circle and played acoustic tunes. We perused the museum, looked at outdoor displays of whale teeth and various other animal parts, enjoyed conversing with Parks employees and met a few more of our fellow islanders. It was soon time for Jenn and me to say good-bye to the husbands who had come over to the museum by car to meet up with us and partake in the afternoon’s activities.

Then it was on to the strenuous part of our journey: Jenn and I headed off for the look-out part of the hike. And here’s where I needed to toughen up.

It was on one very steep forest path that I just put my head down and kept going, one step at a time, following my friend’s lead. I reminded myself during that stretch that I had survived giving birth and I was going to make it up this mountain. In fact, I was remembering that the nurses offered me a mirror as Lauren was crowning, but I didn’t want to see how much farther I still had to go. That’s how I felt on this hike: just keep going, keep pushing, and you’ll get there.

We did. This is the view that a backless but welcome bench afforded us upon our arrival.

We didn’t see any whales – just this guy at the Pender Museum. Maybe the rest of them were out partying on their big day.

Now, there were a few eagles circling far below us. Could’ve been worse: might have been vultures above us! The best part of the whole day was the literal hours that we spent talking, sharing our stories, our journeys that brought us both here, our troubles and our wisdom. Oh, and there were plenty of laughs, a few well-placed expletives and just connection on an otherwise isolated trail.

The descent was the trickier part of the day. Leaves on the path made getting a grip in my stupid sneakers more challenging and only once did I slip and nearly lose my footing. I picked up a branch and used it as a walking stick, eventually getting a finger puncture for my troubles. Again, though, the mantras of “one step at a time” and “don’t look too far down the path, just get to the next level space” served me well.

As the walk ended, I not only felt an immense sense of accomplishment, but a bit of a renewed purpose. That night I was ordering collapsible walking sticks (one for Rob should he want it) for the next time I need a bit of stability help on a decline. I looked into a small hiking backpack to take the place of the waist purse I used, so I could put a water bottle in it and free up my hands to grab trees or potentially break a fall.

While I don’t expect a weekly hike will be the norm – it did take a fair bit of Saturday for my legs to feel more like they usually do – I won’t rule it out, either. The pains of giving birth didn’t end when the pushing was done, just as my body didn’t let me forget right away what I’d put it through (12.2 km, 17,000+ steps and the equivalent of 87 flights of stairs).

Has anything worthwhile ever come easily, without a bit of fear and doubt? Not ever for me, anyway. And I just may have gotten the hint of a new passion sparked within me. We’ll see. Just as long as none of the outings starts before noon, I’m great!

Speaking of new goals, Lisa Brandt and I passed a milestone on the weekend (a quarter million downloads) and wanted to thank you for making us at Gracefully and Frankly part of your week. If you haven’t yet tried it, we have a short clip to introduce you to it, here.

So please share the love and if you have friends who haven’t tried podcasts yet, we’d love to be their first. Or yours! Why not try something new? I promise you it’s free, and way easier than hiking!

And, by the way, I’ll have a new sleep story for you tomorrow on Drift called Fawn In the Wood.

Just a thought… Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom. [Marcel Proust]

Ah, Monday. Another quiet day here on Pender Island before we take the 45-minute ferry ride home this evening for a few appointments and errands in Sidney, BC. Just the usual: get my roots done (although I’m almost always wearing a hat), get my nails done just so they look pretty while I type. Yeah, now that I think of it, it doesn’t make much sense, does it?

Then there’s our toenails. We all show ours off more at this time of year, but this summer in truly trying to embrace island life, I bought my first pair of Birkenstocks. These flat, usually open-toed shoes have been around for decades (not my pair; I bought them new) and I never really felt a need to own them. A couple of weeks ago on a drizzly day in Sidney, I found myself looking for better hiking shoes than the Skechers I usually wear. In addition to getting a pair, I was also drawn to – and purchased – a very basic pair of Birkenstock sandals. “Finally,” I told my Gracefully and Frankly partner Lisa Brandt, “I’m a true island girl!”

Am I the only person in BC – or anywhere for that matter – plagued by blisters from them? After my first wearing, Rob had to adhere some moleskin we keep handy for my soft, sucky feet to stop the rubbing. I’ve worn them only a handful (footful?) of times since, but I’m afraid I got sucked into the hype. The plastic pair I bought for $10 in California a few years back (“before” Elbows Up) have proven more comfortable. Maybe I should have bought the plastic Birkies instead, but I wanted as authentic as I could get. Serves me right. It’s not like they’re haute couture to begin with.

Speaking of which, I read that Taylor and Travis’s wedding went off, seemingly without a hitch, in NYC on Friday with both members of the couple wearing Christian Dior. While I’m not a big Swiftie and can barely pick out Kelce from a lineup, I’m delighted that two seemingly lovely people had the party they wanted in the venue they chose. They donated $26 million to charities (many of them food banks), paid $160K for their own police security around Madison Square Garden, and managed to invite about one thousand people who, so far, have kept their fingers off their devices and their mouths shut about the no-phone event, so as to preserve some semblance of privacy for the happy couple. How they managed to keep even the servers on the downlow is beyond me. But they did. They pulled it off, and that’s amazing.

What I haven’t been able to get my head around is all of the bitter Betties and Bobs who have been obsessed with slamming T&T for everything surrounding the event. Now I’m not here to defend a billionaire and her new husband; they don’t know me and certainly don’t care what I think, nor should they. But why does everything have to be such an outrage? Leave them the hell alone. I mean, as much as the biggest pop star on the planet and her dashing husband can be “hands off.” She didn’t take over Venice like Bezos and his inflatable bride; she caused some traffic closures in a city that is hit with them so regularly it’s an event when there isn’t one.

Frankly, in the midst of a red, white & algae green shit show in Washington the past week, a World Cup rife with corruption (with Mango Mussolini himself admitting to calling the FIFA boss to get a red card suspension on a US player overturned), and a heat wave that seems to have been as punishing as last winter’s cold in parts of Canada, what on earth does it hurt to have something pleasant on which to dwell? It’s not like the Jays are brightening our moods, but the fact that we weren’t even tempted to spend big American bucks to go south of the border to watch them lose two out of three makes me a little bit grateful.

I guess what I’m saying is, to hell with the negativity. Or, more appropriately, yay positivity! Let’s celebrate what we can, when we can. Even if it’s getting two exceptional pictures of a lovely buck relaxing behind our cabin on Saturday evening.

I just happened to capture him with the perfect late-day lighting, and I’ll hover on this cloud of contentment for as long as I can, grateful we had no fireworks in our area to frighten them during our blissfully quiet Canada Day.

May your week include moments of peace, too. Oh, and comfortable shoes! Talk to you with Lisa on Thursday, or on another free Drift with Erin Davis sleep story tonight. And thank you for spending some time here.

Just a thought… Where there is kindness, there is goodness and where there is goodness, there is magic. [Ella’s Mother, Cinderella (2015)]

I think we can all agree that there’s just not enough magic in the world once we’re past a certain age. Even for some children, sadly, there’s little or none when they’re living with food insecurity, illness, emotionally unhealthy family situations or the threat or aftermath of war or natural destruction.

But I’d like to think that, in a way, I helped add to a little boy’s sense of wonder right here on Pender Island yesterday, and that’s the story I’ll share with you here.

One of our new friends in this little spot of heaven has a grandson who we’ll call Owen. A fresh kindergarten graduate, he’s spending time with his grandparents here. One of my favourite pics of all time is one that Jennifer took of her grandson on a nearby marina playground at sunset about a month ago.

Jennifer and her husband make a point of keeping fairies and pixies in Owen’s life. They visit special forests here where little houses and tiny tree doors open imaginations young and young-at-heart. Jennifer makes a point of hiding notes and trinkets in random places that they “discover” while out exploring.

Yesterday I brought a tiny gift that a neighbour in our condo in Sidney made for us. It’s a sparkly little orca to hang in a window, and I immediately knew what to do with it.

While out on a trail walk yesterday, I hid it at the base of a bench with an arrow-shaped rock pointing towards it. I texted Jennifer with the name of the trail (not far from either of our houses) and then, not half an hour later, both grandmother and grandson paid us a visit to show us the orca, with Owen thanking me for telling him where there’d been a pixie surprise. (I told him we were on a walk and spotted it, but knew it couldn’t be for US, so we had to tell him instead!)

As we left the ornament in its secret place, I told Rob there’s just not enough magic in the world and if I can help to add to it a little bit, it gives me such joy.

I’ve no doubt the whole experience felt every bit as good for me as it did for them. As they left, I proceeded to scour the place for any more surprises I could hide in future. I don’t have any, but that doesn’t mean I won’t get some. How I miss our own grandkids! But we make and find our own joy where we can, right?

I don’t need to tell you what else raises our spirits these days (not you, Blue Jays): Canada advancing in the World Cup, the waning days of rainbow celebrations as Pride month wraps up and, of course, the incredible gift of living in Canada as the 1^st of July approaches.

This year we’ll miss Sidney, BC’s terrific fireworks display on the 30^th just out on the ocean behind our condos. Instead, tomorrow we’ll quietly mark my 7^th year of sobriety with whatever cake we find in town today on Pender Island, and forego the crowds and celebrations on Canada Day. For us, just being here in the silence and counting our blessings, which number far more than 159, will suffice.

May your Canada Day be one of appreciation and a renewal of our national “Elbows Up” spirit, and hope for unity and bounty for all. Have an amazing week, and I’ll be with Lisa Brandt this Thursday for Episode 183 of our free podcast at gracefullyandfrankly.com.

Just a thought… May you give yourself permission to genuinely enjoy your life again, even if it doesn’t look how you thought it would. [We the Urban/tinybuddha.com]

Welcome to a new week and a brand new season.

Nature and time have presented us today with a big reason to celebrate (that is, if you love this season as much as I do) – the first full day of summer. We walked the dogs at 10 o’clock last night and marvelled at the shades of coral still hanging in the sky just over the ocean, which we glimpsed through the thick trees. How we love these long, lighter evenings! And we’ll cherish every minute of them that we have, just as we try to do with life itself. But sometimes, we can’t help looking back.

It was 13 years ago today that we had so much to celebrate as Lauren became a bride and Rob and I helped to make her day as memorable as it could be. It was a muggy Saturday in Jackson’s Point, on the shores of Lake Simcoe, Ontario and the rain held off so that the bubbles that greeted Lauren and her groom as they emerged from the tiny chapel on our cottage road were able to loft to the skies, accompanied by our fondest wishes for joy and laughter ever after. You can see that happiness and pride in our three faces as Rob and I both walked her down the aisle.

Of course, since then so much has changed that it still feels like that day and the 22 years that preceded it were a dream.

But today I suppose we have a different reason to feel lighter: we’ve gotten over the last hurdle of our usual spring slog where we mark our daughter’s birthday, Mother’s Day, her day of leaving, Father’s Day and then her wedding day, all between March 24 and June 22. Now that two month dark cloud on our annual calendar has passed. And on we go.

I wonder today if anyone else at her wedding stopped to remember this day 13 years ago and, honestly, I think the answer is no. Because life goes on “within you and without you” as George Harrison so beautifully wrote. We remember, and I guess that’s what matters.

It’s also why I saved this piece when I scrolled upon it on Instagram a while back, and thought it might resonate with you, too.

@jamesonarisi is a beautiful follow. And you have a lovely week.

Just a thought… It’s a tough life, and it’s the little things that get us through the day. [Jeffery Deaver]

Welcome to a new week – the second half of June and, soon, the longest day of the year in terms of minutes of light. Another summer is already landing softly (or not-so-softly, if you’re my friend and podcast partner Lisa Brandt, who’s already had two instances of multiple tornado warnings this spring in southwestern Ontario) on our doorsteps.

Cities like Toronto, and closer to us, Vancouver, have joyfully exploded with World Cup excitement, while those of us who prefer the silence fill our cups with quiet and solitude.

Nestled in the tall pines and cedars on a small Gulf Island, the sounds of hot tub occasionally running or the persistent cheeriness of a robin singing lustily morning ’til sundown, the quiet swish of a car passing by on the road past our cottage lane and the occasional riff of music carried on the wind from someone’s outdoor speaker are all we hear. I’m even finding that life in small bucolic Sidney, where our supposed residence is, just a bit too busy. Funny what we become accustomed to. It’s like my body and soul have craved this peace and silence and I just didn’t or couldn’t answer that call during our working lives, except on weekends, when we could escape to our quiet spaces.

But last Tuesday there was one night that was just a little too silent. At about 7:00 pm the power went out, something that happens on a fairly regular basis here. With high winds and so many trees, it’s not a surprise when an entire island goes dark, as it did.

We had a salad for dinner (could’ve barbecued but didn’t) and then just kind of killed time. Finally at about 10, Rob, the girls and I went to bed, as two of us worried about the next day’s task: recording episode 180 of Gracefully and Frankly.

Without getting too much into the weeds on the podcast sausage making, usually wherever I am, I’m connected by WiFi and Lisa and I hook up so we can talk to each other through our respective mics/laptops, each doing recordings on our own end. Then we put them together, do some editing and mixing, adding music and other touches, and it goes up to the world the next day. Rob and I had figured out how I’d connect to my phone’s signal and link with Lisa that way. Phew.

We were about to go to sleep with our minds eased, until it occurred to me that recording without caffeine in the morning was going to be a BIG problem. What to do?

“Ah!” I exclaimed, “I boil water for coffee on the barbecue like I did camping last year, and use our French press!”

And that’s when Rob reminded me of something.

Have you ever seen that episode of The Twilight Zone where Burgess Meredith plays a mousy bank teller who only wants to read? He has no time, and no one will allow him the quiet to do what he truly wants: pore over countless books.

Well, then there’s some apocalypse (of course there is; the show was made in the shadow of the not-so-Cold War). Everyone’s perished but our bookish friend, who’s delighted to see that the massive town library still stands. With unfettered joy, he methodically stacks the library’s majestic stairs with the classics and just as he’s about to dive into them, his thick glasses tumble off his face to the ground, their lenses shattered beyond repair. He has all the time in the world to read, but no way now to make out what’s on the pages.

Well, to me, that story is the absolute best episode of TZ ever, and it was echoed in our little cabin as we realized that we have three ways of making coffee: our countertop machine, our Nespresso and the French press, but ALL OF OUR COFFEE IS IN BEAN FORM!

Water, water, everywhere, but not a drop to pour over ground coffee????? Yes, dear Ancient Mariner, that was my dilemma.

Fortunately, the power returned at about 10:45 pm and our G&F listener didn’t have to hear how hard I’d work to put words together in my head and get them to my mouth hole without my two or three coffees.

Crisis happily averted, and if you listen to episode 180, you’ll hear what Rob and I did by the light of a candle while we waited for the power to return. It ain’t sexy, but it was very, very funny, as was Lisa’s reaction to it.

Have a gentle week and may your cup be full of whatever gives you joy. For me, it’s Rob, the dogs, nature and coffee, but the happiness of my marriage dictates that I not share with you the REAL order in which I rank them!