(Re)Building Paradise - Part 1
I sensed his presence for over a week. It wasn't as if he was actually stalking me, it was more like he just wanted to be nearby in case I needed to talk. Although it had been a while since we had last spoken, I wasn't surprised that he followed me on my first journey to the deep woods of British Columbia. I was traveling there with my wife to participate in a conference on spiritual practices.
It was when we were on the small ferry, taking us to what would be our temporary island home, that I knew for sure he was crossing the bay with us. During the week that followed, I kept expecting him to make an appearance. At times, when I was alone in the woods, I would quickly turn around, or look up into the forest canopy, fully expecting to catch a glimpse of my unseen companion. Yet he never appeared.
Even during the most heated discussions among our small band of utopian planners, he remained out of sight. How strange I thought, for some of the conversations we were having at the conference were exactly the kind he relished long ago, when we were together every day. By the time my wife and I were riding the ferry back to civilization, I had given up on making contact with him. It was as if he followed us just to enjoy the scenery.
We had a couple of days before we had to return home, so we decided to spend the weekend in Victoria, a delightful town on the southern tip of Vancouver Island. The weather was perfect. It was the first day of autumn and the winter rains had not yet begun. The melancholy we experienced after parting with our friends, both old and new, was quickly replaced by the positive energy of this beautiful city. It was during our second day in Victoria that he finally made his appearance. Like proper tourists, we visited one of the city's most famous attractions, Butchart Gardens. Perhaps you have been there yourself. If so, you already know of its mystical quality.
As I understand the story of the gardens, early in the 20th century a businessman began mining operations in a limestone quarry just outside the town of Victoria. Eventually there was not enough limestone left to make operations economically feasible. So this wealthy industrialist closed the mine and laid off all his workers. Not long after the closing, the wife of its owner, Jenny Butchart, had the idea to turn this newly created eyesore of a quarry into a garden. Thus began the long process of bringing in topsoil and plants. Today, that former quarry is the sunken garden section of what has grown into one of the world's largest and most beautiful flower gardens.
While I was standing on a ridge looking down on the huge sunken garden, he finally began to speak to me. "So, what d'ya think kid?" was the first thing he said. Only now, as I write this, do I realize how often my father said those words to me . . . and how important they have been in my life. It has been over 25 years since he died, but I still vividly recall the expectant tone of voice he always used when asking me what I thought. My dad really cared about what I thought. That always came first with him, not what he thought but what I thought. As I think about this, I see how wise he was to first hear me out, especially when he disagreed with me. It was not unusual for us to both make slight adjustments in our points of view once we had finished one of our conversations. Now, here he was, asking me what I thought about the incredible beauty that lay before us.
What did I think? The answer to that question could not be put into words. The stunning array of color, rolling across the beds of flowers, reminded me of waves breaking at the sea shore, ever-changing and each one perfect. One of the things that had been discussed in the conference of the previous week was the need to create a new language, one that could better describe the wondrous beauty we see in nature. So there I stood, taking in that pulsating, living, breathing, breathtaking splendor and unable to say anything more than, "It is so beautiful."
"That's pretty obvious," I sensed my father answering, "but what I was talking about is the story of how this old limestone quarry was transformed into a corner of paradise."
Copyright 2017 by Lorenzo Hagerty
So much information @lorenzohagerty thanks for sharing.
I'm wondering where this is going. I'll wait until it's finished to comment on it. Don't want any accidental spoilers.
I'll post the conclusion later today.