But the quote actually does pertain to what I want to talk about. In my recent post on Dundas Square I described a lovely evening spent by Collette and I in downtown Toronto. It was kind of a perfect urban night; warm weather, outside on the patio, the bright city lights around us, surrounded by people, traffic, music coming from different sources. I love that kind of night. It is the kind of thing that makes city dwelling so worthwhile
Some people, people from rural areas, may have difficulty thinking of such an evening as being enjoyable. For them, the night lights they want to see are the stars, so bright and numerous away from the city and the sounds they want to hear are natural sounds; the sussurus of the wind in pin boughs, the mummer of water running over rocks, maybe the keen of a hawk in the distance.
I've been lucky in my life. I've lived in different kinds of environment's. Urban environments like Montreal and Toronto. Rural environment's like northern Manitoba and the farming areas of Prince Edward Island. I understand and appreciate the appeal of both
There is nothing like walking down to a tiny lake, 40 miles north of Thompson Manitoba, the surface still and dark and reflective as a mirror, mist wreathing the jack pines; looking across the lake to see the obdurance of the prevailing green disrupted here and there by explosions of yellow as the birch trees changed colour, the sound of the wind high in the trees and the splash of an otter, close to shore. Peaceful, tranquil
I'm able to find similar emotions in a city. That night at Dundas Square I was able to cut through the background clutter of the city and hear the sounds of spoons clinking against coffee cups, see the gleam of chrome on the exhaust of a Harley Davidson motorcycle, the click of a woman's high heels as she walked hand in hand with her lover across the square, the smell of a hot dog sizzling on the grille of a sausage vendor, felt the warm breeze moving through my hair. And yes, it brought me a peacefulness and a kind of tranquility.
I've often said that I could be happy living in a lot of different kinds of places. City, country both have appeals to me, both have draw backs. I've hitched hiked across the country a couple of times and I've lived out of a back pack. I can't imagine enjoying that experience now but I still have the feeling that I could live most places. Perhaps I'm a kind of an insular person, I'm happy in my head, I'm happy if I have good people around me, I'm content in a parka or a tank top (OK, I know that's an ugly image, live with it), trudging through a forest, walking down Yonge Street. When I'm too long in the city, I want to find some quiet lake and lurk in a tent for a while; but after a time in that tent I want pavement under my street and breathe some exhaust fumes.
Collette and I love to travel, we love to experience new places, new people, new things. Sometimes it's not always comfortable or convenient, but we enjoy it for the novelty, for the experience. I think I would grow incredibly, if not dangerously, bored if I spent too long in one place. We've live a couple of decades in Toronto but we get to go up north to Parry Sound, or to Kingston, or to Quebec or Costa Rica or Belize ...
I can find that peace and tranquility in many places. Perhaps it's because I seek it out. I look for it, I listen for it, I try to open my eyes and ears and the pores of my skin to let it seep on in.
Where I go, there I am, wherever I am, it's where I want to be.
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