When stillness comes to visit it is accompanied by a small yet pulsating restlessness. Born and raised a Doer, it’s hard to simply Be. There is an intrinsic edginess to my soul that longs to move. However, “stillness” seeks a place in my world, also. In equal measure. How can that be? I’m slowly beginning to accept these contrary energies. Being “busy” gives me a sense of purpose and fulfilment. As long as I live, I’m likely to feel some degree of guilt for doing nothing and simply being still. I know I need both, as do others, to maintain balance in life. I don’t know how those “energizer bunnies” do it. Or people who are unproductive too; for that matter.

Today, I had one errand to run which I completed before noon. The afternoon was wide open. Aah! Yay! And yikes! This is a good time to write, my inner voice nudged. I had already written a piece to read to Carol, my dear writing pal whom I meet with monthly, but the story wouldn’t gel. The piece was all over the map; I was tired and antsy. That was me pre-holidays.

I just returned from a long road-trip to Haida Gwaii, formerly known as the Queen Charlotte Islands. I am changed by the experience. If you seek to learn more about yourself and about life spending time on Haida Gwaii may help you find answers to some of your questions. I always look to holidays as a way to feel an excited calmness. I don’t have to work. I don’t have to do anything per se. I simply get to enjoy my environment and be in the moment. Be sure to tread lightly. This is sacred ground.

The people living on Haida Gwaii are generous. Their kindness to strangers is palpable. Stories and directions are easily shared. As well as, freshly caught salmon and crab. In all my travels, I didn’t see any grand mansions. Except one and it’s rather conspicuous amidst the, otherwise, humble abodes. No flashy cars either. Art is a part of life for the Haida and some of the traditional ways of construction are being practiced in various architecting pursuits be it a boat, a home or a totem pole. Art galleries pepper the towns sparingly selling local artists’ wares. Haida artwork is globally recognized. Excitedly, a Haida artist is going to carve the symbols of a bear and dolphin on a ring for me. Both to honour my totem animal, the dolphin, and the bear that showed itself to me two days before arriving on the islands.

I locked eyes with a cinnamon coloured black bear that popped out of between a cluster of roadside bushes. We held our gaze for what seemed like an eternity. My gaze unlocked to the fist-sized white heart-shape on its chest. I was awestruck! I shared my story with a Nisga’A storyteller and carver who exclaimed, “You saw a Spirit bear!” And that “Spirit bears are in this area; some have white paws, other white markings or are all white.” Ted Andrews, in his book, “Animal Speak” writes “…bear medicine…can teach you to go deep within so you can make your choices and decisions from a position of power.” And “…as a bear climbs a tree, so must you awaken out into the world, to gain perspective and apply your potential inherent.”

Haida Gwaii is mysterious and magical. It’s history is rich. It has been untouched by the masses. It’s population is low. In his article, “Haida Gwaii’s future, Haida Gwaii’s past, CBC journalist Padraig Moran writes, “…the Haida Nation, an indigenous group…make up around half of the roughly 5,000 people living on Haida Gwaii.” I believe certain kinds of souls live in this exquisite location. Either an evolving soul or a disconnected one. I sensed, the Haida know their bones, that this place is their birthright to protect.

There are meandering trails throughout the forests of Sitka spruce, hemlock and western red and yellow cedar, like the Golden Spruce Trail where you feel like you’ve been transported into another place in time. Legend has it there grew a Golden Spruce, a one of a kind tree. John Vaillant recounts in, “The Golden Spruce: A true story of Myth, Madness and Greed.”. The tree was cut down in the late nineteen-nineties. I felt the heart-break. Decades later. This isn’t the first time I have felt the grief of a people or a place that has been violated. Soft dirt covers the walking trails and thick moss cascades out from there. One could walk barefoot. Threads of moss hang from the branches like old fashioned Christmas tree tinsel. You feel as if Mother Earth is taking you into her warm bosom. And only when you are sufficiently nourished does She release you from her soft embrace. I’ve never heard such a deep consistent silence. It freaked me out, at first. In no time, I felt peaceful and clear. And I didn’t feel a lick of restlessness.

I walked the long, misty, rocky beaches for hours. Drift wood showed the afternoon tide lines like a child’s scribble. The rocks are smooth from their endless tumblings. Some beaches are known for an abundance of agates. The sound of the waves, loose-crackling rocks and tangles of windswept-hair live inside me, still. I felt a coming home of sorts. I found my rhythm.

I didn’t make it to the old growth forests and the ancestral villages situated on the south-eastern tip. One can travel to those islands by way of a small boat. It is there that the “Watchmen” have their stations. The watchmen are “minding the place” of their ancestors so that it is does not get disturbed. I hope to visit, again.

Yes, there will be another trip, or better still, “another pilgrimage” to Haida Gwaii. This place entered my soul, when I first heard of it, long before I placed my feet on the islands. The land knew what I was in greatest need of. I feel rested. I am no longer restless. And I’m more purposeful in my endeavours after experiencing this immense beauty, ancientness and culture.

~Barbara