On The Beach

On The Beach

By: Wayne Smith
Dec.21/07





Some times in the evening, when the road ahead looks rough and life has served me a challenge I just can’t face, I take a walk.
There is a special place I go to during these times of turmoil where I can stand quietly on a beach. From this spot, I reflect, over the grey waters of Indian arm to a southern shore where flames of orange and white light dance across Burrard Inlet. I look to the north shore, and see evergreen hills that take my mind back to a time when the land was undeveloped and the waters had been the same… for a thousand years.


I am not a religious man, I don’t believe in ghosts or life after death, but when I am alone and in need; something comes to me, it may just be a thought a feeling. … or it could be a spirit.

Standing here alone eyes closed, I am taken back to a time when stealthy paddles moved gently through cold water. I hear a bump in the darkness and I am jolted awake, suddenly I am a young native, guarding our homeland against attack. I strain my eyes along our dark shoreline to an unusual shape, bobbing and moving on the waves. Fear grips me. Is it a log drifting with the tide? Or war canoes filled with invaders come to steal and kill my people? Should I warn my elders? No, I will wait, watch, and listen, a little longer… then I’ll decide.

Quickly now I snap from my dream and I am myself again, standing late at night in darkness and turmoil. The rocky shores of Cates Park, a damp low tide odor and distant city lights stream forth a reminder of now, the unchanged shore to the North a reminder of then.

Moments later I am a native again standing in our war canoe. A paddle is in my hands, its keen point and sharp edge, whiz through an angry night sky, salt spray and guttural curses fill the air, black shapes, thickly padded in furs, rise in war canoes to meet our challenge, paddles dash against arms and chests, …and then… I am back…as myself again watching the lights of today shining steady over calm waters.

Only a brief rest… then I’m with them again as myself this time. I stand alone, at the waters edge. I am from a different time, only a distant shadow amongst the rocks. I look around me and see tall cedar trees, a native long house its wide boards specked with green moss the inside lit by smoky firelight. I see clams being gathered, eaten, shells discarded, salmon, and berries drying. I hear the scraping of sand against dugout Canoes drawn ashore. I hear stories, history, lessons told by elders. I hear children’s voices, and future, growing strong on the beach. Back and forth in my minds eye, over thousands of years, between two cultures, two histories, now in one place. Their spirits survive, their will to live strong, they were here yesterday, and they are here today.

The visitation complete I stroll home, feeling a change of mind a spiritual healing, ready to meet life’s challenge, when I go to that special place on the beach.