English Bay

Written yesterday by English Bay: This afternoon, the sun and almost cloudless sky has brought me to English Bay...wish this
place still had its aboriginal name...it must have had one. Ever since I moved to this west coast city, I have come to this bay,
and to Stanley Park on its shores, on windy, wet, grey or sunny days, through all seasons. For me it is the heart of my city. it is the place I come to when I am jangled, or need to clear my mind, from the dissonances of the inner city. The finger of the Pacific, that reaches in, close to my feet, the misted mountain ranges that rise across the water, and the straight, tall, and ancient trees close by, tell me, "never mind...there is still hope..."when my light burns low. I've noticed for a long time, how a sunny day, brings other lemmings like myself, down, to throng the sea wall path, and create a festive air, at ocean's edge. Right now, a slightly cool breeze blows into my face, as the waves roll in, below my feet as I write. In this place, I have seen,
eagles circling high or swooping low... harbour seals peeking at the land lubbers gawking at them...otters slicing the water
as they head unwaveringly home...black and white ducks rising off the waves and filling the air with a whistling sound...
herons like statues with their feet in the water...teaching whoever would learn...about harvesting the fruits of calmness and
patience...and, of course, humanoids, of all description, offering a people watching feast, or sometimes open enough to
engage in pleasant conversation. My walks along the sea wall path have nourished body, spirit, and imagination, and have
been central in making me a walker for life. Today...once again...something tells me that one of the smartest things I ever
did, was to leave my rambling behind, and become a citizen, of this generous place...Vancouver...by the calming Pacific...
and the always beckoning Coast Mountains. Quester.