January 2018,
Boy does time fly by.
Today was one of those days where you wake up and you're just homesick for the past, it's almost melancholic but with a touch of longing.
Nostalgia can be such a dirty liar.
I feel like in everybody's life there are certain events that haunt you but also define you. When I was younger, I had gotten my first taste of British Columbia when my dad took me to a project site he was involved with. I loved those mountains and lakes with everything I had, but most of all I loved the people and the atmosphere. There wasn't a single individual who hadn't brought something unique to the project. The excitement in the atmosphere of being at this beautiful region was tangible, it was the first place I fell in love with.
Every morning, I would wake up to loons calling and every night I would breathe in the fresh air of Marble Canyon. The first time I heard the calls it was eerie to listen to but, as time went on it became a morning ritual to listen before starting the day. The lake itself was gorgeous its clear sapphire waters nestled peacefully between the face of a mountain and gentle rolling hills.
But what I remember the most is the silence of the lake. Facing the surface, I would look up at the sun streaming in from the top and just be mesmerized by the silence and the colors. Nothing mattered in that moment except for every shade of blue trickling down the water column, blanketing me in this sun-bathed cocoon 15 feet down. It's hard to describe the beauty of something so mesmerizing and so humbling. Once you allow the waves to take you, nothing matters but your own heartbeat slowing to the pulse of life around you.
Pavilion Lake set this tone for the rest of my life, of this constant longing to be surrounded in this environment where science meets the humbleness of Mother Nature. How many other opportunities do you get to meet astronauts and researchers who pilot the submersibles by day and then party with them the same night? Just being around this group of people was inspiring in itself and set an example for what it truly meant to push the boundaries of our existence on this little blue planet we call home.
It's one of those places where you think to yourself, " I want this for the rest of my life."
There was a sense of purpose and community and as someone who craves both, this was home.
I've always been grateful to my dad for taking me there because I can easily say that it changed my life. I don't think he'll ever understand just how much it meant to me to be there but for me, it was the starting point of unraveling the tightly knit knots I had hidden behind to protect myself with without fully understanding why or what I was protecting myself from.
Having this memory is a double edged sword at times.
On one hand, how many memories do we have or experience that we can look back on with total clarity on any given day, no matter how many years separates it from the present. On the other hand, it's something that sits with me during sleepless night and reminds me of a past long gone that makes you wishing I could turn back time to something much simpler. On good days, it reminds me of the sense of purpose and hope it inspired in me. On bad days, it feels like a heartbreak that still has a piece of my heart with it. I dont' think I'll ever really understand why it still haunts me but it will always serve as a reminder for what I strive towards: my own sense of success, whatever that may be.
*All photos courtesy of Pavilion Lake Research Project
