Last week I found myself at a barbecue with some new friends. While we spent most of the afternoon outside having a few drinks and playing crib, we eventually made our way inside to watch the UFC fights (following COVID-19 safety protocols, of course).
Over the course of the night, I stepped outside onto the deck to get some fresh air and discovered it was raining. Normally, that would be all I needed to convince myself to get a cab home, but there was something about the smell of the rain and the trees that compelled me to make the 40-minute walk home regardless of the weather—so that’s exactly what I did.
About five minutes into my walk, shivering and wet, I was starting to question whether walking was the right choice, while simultaneously trying to figure out that pesky song in my head that I couldn’t quite place, but felt matched the feeling of my situation.
As I became accustomed to the cold and wet, and as I realized what song was playing in my head, my mood lifted and I became confident in my decision to walk home.
Ironically, the song I couldn’t get out of my head, and the one that I listened to on repeat while I walked through the pouring rain until my phone died, was Lorde’s new single, “Solar Power,” where she sings about hating the cold and being energized by the sunlight.
With about 20 minutes still ahead of me, and with the song no longer in my ears but still in my head, I continued to enjoy my rain walk along the Valley Trail and the nature that surrounds it.
Eventually, I made it to the BC Hydro plant where the gentle rustling of leaves and the pitter-patter of the rain was overtaken by the buzz of the power lines that cross over top of the trail.
In that moment, I got to thinking about the dichotomy of that particular stretch of Valley Trail. It’s the perfect example of man versus nature. Here we are in a place that people flock to, spending more money than they even have, to stay here—all to be surrounded by the kind of nature you can’t find in many other places.
But considering the amount of power and space it takes to run a nature-driven place like this—while mostly sustainable—was the antithesis of listening to “Solar Power” in the pouring rain.
And, as I thought about this stark contrast, and took in the striking image that was the deserted highway, with its red and green traffic lights reflecting off the wet pavement, my train of thought shifted to the question of why people come here.
Many move here on a whim, for the fun and adventure this place can offer, then figure out the other things, like work and living situations, after. For myself, I did the opposite. I moved here for work with the hope of getting out and enjoying my new home as much as I could.
But what I realized is that in less than two months of being here, I have already fallen into a routine. Sure, I’m having fun, staying active and getting outside as much as I can, but human nature never fails to take over. And slowly but surely, each day starts to resemble the next until eventually it’s all the same.
And because it can happen to all of us at one point or another, take this as your gentle reminder to remember where you are. To remember not to take this place for granted.
Whether you have been here 20 years or 20 days, remember to get outside and enjoy the smell of the rain or take a walk to the lake, even if you only have half an hour to spare. Don’t forget why we are all here and don’t talk yourself out of continuing to experience what makes this place special, even if you’ve done it a hundred times already.
Because sometimes we all need that outside force to remind us of the beauty around us, that gut feeling that says, “you know you want to walk home in the pouring rain with your hair down, listening to ‘Solar Power’ by Lorde, so what are you waiting for?”
Just go for it already.
