I am grateful for paradise. Paradise can be a good book in a hammock. Paradise can be a perfect slice of blueberry pie. Paradise can be a hug from an old friend, the kind of hug where you never want to let go.
Paradise this past Friday was the Kejimkujik Seaside Adjunct on the South Shore of Nova Scotia and I’m still basking in the overhaul my soul received. The sun was warm and glorious, the sand white and perfect, the water clear and cold. Harbour seals watched us with indifference from their rocky perch just off shore.
We spent the day with friends, dear friends, celebrating Blake’s birthday by hiking in this particular park. While I was soaking in all the natural splendour of this paradise, I was aware that a no-entry sign had been held up to worries, worries about money and health and family and relationship. A no-entry sign was held up to impatience and annoyance and the litter of disagreement and complaint.
As I looked up and down the shore, unchanged by the interference of civilization, I was reminded that the same sight that Samuel de Champlain witnessed when sailing to Nova Scotia’ shore was the same sight I was witnessing. I felt both humbled and empowered.
Not many get to find paradise in days that are filled with hunger and violence, the by-products of poverty, and so the feeling of gratitude for the heart-stopping beauty of this place was both obligatory and automatic.
I hope you find a moment of paradise in an ordinary day.