Exploring the VanDusen Delights

On a recent work trip to Vancouver, Canada, I found myself facing two unassigned hours (nothing like an unexpected gift of time.) So I snuck away to the VanDusen Garden—a fifty-five-acre park named after Whitford Julian VanDusen, a Canadian lumber magnate and philanthropist. Inspiration can come from the unlikeliest places and be paid for with centuries-old money.

As I meandered this expansive parkland of flora and fauna, I recalled a formula for resilience in stressful times written about by Ryan Dunlap (Conflictish.com): 

• Recovery. Creating strategic rest. Rest with a purpose.
• Reset. Deprogramming from the stress and processing failures or challenges.
• Reengage.  Facing it all again.

I often find myself at odds with resilience, sparring with it like a demanding lover. Even as “Far from the Madding Crowds” as I strolled that day, my mind sought a similar “sequester’d vale of life.” While my weariness is brought on by daily demands and the swirling tide of headlines, hope I must, for resilience is in my DNA (I’ve come to believe.)

I’ve found that a hike—or a walk in the park—jump-starts the recovery process. If the hike stretches long or the park expands wide, I might even meander into a reset mode—that dangerous place where I try to make sense of it all. I wound the path and followed its retreat around ponds and skyward pines, from manicured gardens of roses to bushy patches of daisies and disregard, all as lovely as the next.

The totem poles from the Gitksan Master Carvers guarded one section and stood like stalwart observers to their observers—an odd but respectful standoff. Rounding out my walk was the meditation of the mingling stream of a waterfall, a scramble through a hedge grove maze, and a buzzing of the bee-boxes.

And as my mind began its reset, I couldn’t help but see literary references wherever I looked. The pink puff flower reminded me of the popping rhymes of Dr. Seuss and Horton. The waterfall whispered words from Robert Southey’s poem,  The posies stretching skyward pulled forward Maya Angelou’s words from “Still I Rise.”

As words sought out sentences and sentences sought formation, my heart was soothed, but my mind, not healed, not yet, and maybe not ever. Still, I seek the words of others for the heavy lifting. So I leave you with Emerson’s wish for you and for me as I attempt to reengage with the madding crowds of life.

This is My Wish for You by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Comfort on difficult days,
smiles when sadness intrudes,
rainbows to follow the clouds,
laughter to kiss your lips,
sunsets to warm your heart,
hugs when spirits sag,
beauty for your eyes to see,
friendships to brighten your being,
faith so that you can believe,
confidence for when you doubt,
courage to know yourself,
patience to accept the truth,
love to complete your life.