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Low Entropy Volunteer Writer Daniel Wilkens takes us on a walk through a secluded, beloved place.

 

We are surrounded by chaos. Threats of job loss gnaw away at our feelings of security. We are bombarded with images of unrest and upheaval. Our very lives are threatened by a disease that seems determined to hunt us down – an enemy we can’t even see.  

 

These factors and hundreds of others are fixtures of our current society. These stressors take a huge emotional toll. They suck out our spirit, deplete us of our internal resources and erode our confidence. They rob us of our ability (or our perception of our ability) to protect ourselves and our loved ones. 

 

It’s never been more important to find a way to ground ourselves, to take a step back from the madness. ‘Getting away from it all’ is a cliché – but regaining focus can sometimes mean literally and physically ’getting away.’ Think of a place of fond past memories, a place of happiness or solitude – a place that’s important to you personally. I’m going to suggest that one way to stay sane in a crazy world is to frequent a location that soothes you. Of course we need to follow whatever current health and safety guidelines are required, including masks and our ability to social distance. Be smart and safe. But when possible, think about a place you love and go there. 

 

The Delight of Discovery 

 

There are a lot of places I hold near and dear. The one I’m thinking of right now is a tiny beach on the south coast of Lake Erie, Ontario. By ‘tiny’ I mean a few hundred meters of shoreline at most. It’s not pristine or perfectly groomed. It doesn’t get the attention of the bigger stretches of sand like Port Stanley or Nickel Beach. The narrow access roadway leads down to a parking area big enough to accommodate six cars. While some parents bring their kids on a hot August afternoon and a few hardy locals make the trek down to walk their dogs, it is definitely secluded. It’s not remote, but it’s not overrun either.

 

Sometimes traces of humankind are all that’s visible. Holes may dot the sand-scape where beach umbrellas sat, shielding their owners from the searing sun. Small canine footprints follow smaller human footprints wherever they wander. More often, it’s nature leaving clues behind. Seagull tracks, raccoon tracks and possum tracks are evident at water’s edge. Tracks of coyotes or skunks will lead to a half-eaten fish, its final resting place a shallow scar on the dunes. Even mice or voles can leave their mini prints in the silky wet sand of a May morning. Every set of tracks tells a tale if you care to read them. 

In the summer it is a hot spot, scorched grasses waving over sizzling sand. In the late fall the storms come, howling their rage and lambasting the pier with sky-scraping waves. The winter is quiet and white, ice stretching out well into the bay. In the spring it smells fresh, the water still freezing cold for those anxious enough for summer to give it a splash.

 

The delight of discovery knows no seasons. Driftwood is strewn and scattered, twisting into magnificent art forms. Flat stones call out, begging to be skipped. Beach glass is everywhere, polished by tides and glinting in the bright orange light. Fossil shells have stories to tell, feathers and bones do too.

 

I had a period where I visited almost daily for a few months and I thought of it in my head as a place of familiarity, a place of sameness. Which it is, in a fashion. But more than that, it is a place of perpetual change. When I did finally make the association between this tranquil getaway and constant flux, it was almost a revelation. The relief I feel when I visit comes not from predictability, but from the anticipation of seeing something new.

 

This short stretch of water meeting shoreline is always in motion. Not just season-to-season as you might expect, but day-to-day and minute-by-minute. It’s never the same twice and I find that very reassuring.

 

Identify, Embrace, Energize

 

Your place of comfort doesn’t have to be as dramatic as a hidden, wind-swept beach. It can be your usual park bench, a historic clock tower, a fountain in the city square or a favourite old chair. Places that can be visited safely and privately. What’s important is to identify these places and embrace their potency. A place you love is a place of power, of rejuvenation and regeneration. A place you love is somewhere you can go and reaffirm to yourself, ‘I know who I am’ and ‘I feel stronger now, I can face my challenges.’

 

Think about a place you love, and go there.

 

Where would you go? Let us know in the comments, or take the very short journey over to a special place that Low Entropy has created for our inclusive and supportive community and share your memories and experiences!