My Pilgrimage Home

In June, I made a breakthrough in the midst of a dream.

One of those hyper-realistic dreams where the emotional charge sticks with you upon waking, and the gravity of what unfolded is curiously undeniable.

With these kinds of dreams happening more often, I’ve made a habit of exploring them. They feel too meaningful, too intimately tied to actual events to ignore.

So in this one, I realized I never wanted to move off the island I grew up on. 

The loss of my friends and social circle cut deeper than I ever could have realized as a kid, and not having any say in the matter wounded my sense of agency and control.

I woke up filled with an unshakeable need to retrace the footsteps of my youth, now armed with brightened eyes and the knowledge that I never wanted to leave at all.

So that’s what I did this past weekend.

I made the two-ferry journey to Hornby Island, where I lived from age two ‘till ten.

I walked through the precious clifftop grove of Garry Oak trees and made my way down to the remote, hidden Mushroom Beach (how fitting. I used to build log forts, skip stones and run around naked here. This time, I worked on the song I’m writing.

I went to Whaling Station Bay, where my parents often ran their kayak tour and rental business out. I wandered end to end, and found a t-rex nearly as tall as me made from many pieces of driftwood carefully hammered together.

I meandered through the ringside, which is the island’s community hub. Where most of the restaurants, cafes, shops, boutiques, and life necessities can be found.

I found myself humming with happiness, familiarity, and reconnection, awash in a perfume of cedar, sea salt, and cannabis. Those are a few of the island’s finest goods.

I stayed with my uncle, his partner, and their two dogs. One of which, to my surprise and delight, I connected with as deeply as—and in the same ways—as the black standard poodle my grandparents had when I was growing up.

(Meaning, we played fetch for hours on end.)

What a lovely, grounding weekend.

I’ve been on quite the internal journey this year. Of remembering, of release, of becoming. And I’m loving all the things I’ve done in the name of integration.

Like paying daily visits to the Temple of Song & Dance, in some way… Trusting my body to make decisions, rather than my mind… Revisiting the oldest roots I have, and loving them… And rewiring how I move through the world, to name a few.

For years, I put off the kind of work I’ve been doing now. In part because I imagined the process would be messy, sticky, challenging, and deeply uncomfortable.

Which have all been true at times, but never for long and never as bad as imagined.

In reality, this adventure has been fun, freeing, and revelatory.

The caves you most fear truly do hold the best treasure.

With love from the forest,

~ Alexander