Opening a New Window

And enjoying the view

Remember this window, in Alençon?

I used to love this window, and spent time each day looking out as the sun and the clouds changed the way that the roofs and tiles, and streets looked. It was a glorious ever-changing delight.

Here’s what I woke up to today.

Again, the sun and the weather changes by the hour, and the trees and bushes change colour and the sea, in the background, rises and falls, and changes colour itself.

This connection with nature, with the outdoor world, was strangely lacking in North Vancouver. Maybe it was the realities of living in a strata complex where most types of change were prohibited, or maybe it was because of the months of never-changing, grey, wet, rainy winter; pure depression-creating perfection. Whatever the case, the daily blue skies alone are worth the challenge of moving from one place to another.

As was the realization that yes, I need to be outdoors, and have blue skies, and wind, and perhaps even the ocean beside me. (And why didn’t the waterfront in Vancouver play a similar role? What was different?) The Atlantic is so very different from the Pacific, at least the parts that I’ve visited. It feels much colder, and perhaps wilder, but somehow isn’t the least bit frightening. It’s almost as if she wants to wrap her arms around me and protect me.

All of this speculation is prompted by writer Warren Ellis, whose books and TV series I don’t really care for, but whose newsletter I absolutely love. It’s called Orbital Operations and is sort of a diary of work, and thoughts, and suggestions.

Five years ago I was at the Juvet Landscape Hotel in Norway, which is where the film EX MACHINA was filmed, for a think-tank thing, and this time of year is when I think back to that. As you can see, it was golden autumn when I arrived. I spent a lot of time watching the sun crawl across the valley and a lot of time watching the river. It was a rare privilege to be in a place like that, and I gave it a lot of time. Sitting out in the cold with coffee and just dreaming.

Some weeks, I'll talk to you about schedules and work discipline and showing up and getting the words down and supporting that process. This week, I'm telling you that an essential part of the process is time to dream. Or even just to watch and listen and allow things to flow through your head. Put your notebook away so you don't feel any pressure to make marks in it. It's not about being productive. It's about going fallow-field for a bit. It's the equivalent of sitting on that rock and watching the river run.

Twice in two weeks we’ve seen pheasants come past our back windows. I think perhaps it’s time to stop and just enjoy the pleasure of the birds, and bugs, and plants that surround our new home, and perhaps to start lobbying someone to add a nice park bench down at the Western Head lighthouse.

For today my big plan is to move a table and two chairs back down from the barn to the deck beside the house, and to just sit in the sunshine (20° C today!) and read a book.

I know it’s terribly cliché, but I need to constantly remind myself that despite the thousands of things that seem to need attention Right Now, the truth is that we all also need time to set those things aside and enjoy the world around us on a more fundamental and non-electronic-mediated level.