“Leave the door open to the unknown, the door into the dark. That’s where the most important things come from, where you yourself came from, and where you will go.”
â€“Rebecca Solnit (by way of Roshi Joan)
I did not post a notice on the Lasqueti Island website. Even so, one day there arrived an email from Eve, in reply to the post I never made.
The email was an invitation to me to spend some time on a tiny island which lies just off of Lasqueti. Eve and her partner Ray comprise the entire population of this island. The offer was for me to come and retreat, to write and to practice. I could live in the small wood-stove heated cabin adjacent to their house, usingÂ their kitchen. In return I could clean up the cabin, help out with gardening and chores, and share life wisdom with Eve and Ray. I talked to Ray on the phone from Hawaii, and he told me that they had never had anyone stay in the cabin, nor were they looking for anyone to come. But something about the post I did not make chimed with Eve, and it occured to them to offer it to me.
Llyndorah Island is 26 acres of arbutus and scrub rhododendron, off-off grid, powered by the sun and the wind. If I am in need of groceries or a latte I can row across the bay to the Lasqueti wharf in about 20 minutes, weather and tides permitting. I can ferry my bike across in the rowboat.
Once again, the Universe throws down the gauntlet. I am not one to shrink from a dare.
So here I go again, headlong into the Big Whateva. To spend the month of May on Llyndorah, exploring and practicing and drafting out that damn book. Sitting down to get cozy with my demons and angels. From there according to the inscrutable Plan, I will head to Cortes Island for the summer to clear my citified mind and do some more of all that. I am hoping to get some work at Hollyhock, but if not, then something else will come. I know that a place to live on Cortes will reveal it to me soon enough, and in the meantime I can land happily with Romina at Moonhill. I have subletted my apartment to a trustworthy man. I am packing and purging and preparing to go. Which, I am pleased to note, is pretty easy when you have lmost nothing to begin with.
Another step out onto the tightrope of my life. Am I terrified? Yup, just a bit. I am sad to be leaving the bike shop and the zendo and the Appias, and all my close friends in Vancouver. Trusting that all will be here for me on return, and/or everything will have changed. Especially me.
What can I do, when all the doors swing open before me? The only thing to do is say Yes.