Gratitude From On High: A Birdseye View in Canada

Dear Gratitude,

It’s been awhile. Not since we’ve spoken – I feel your presence every day – but since we last met on the road. My best adventures always involve you. From Germany to Japan; my home in the Pacific Northwest to the streets of Boston, I have been so fortunate to travel and meet you in countless people, countless places. In Siena, my first international trip, I found you in a glass of vino. Oh, the times we had, wine-stained night after night. Come sunrise I’d push you away, my head throbbing, thankful for nothing but the bed I laid upon. Yet the privilege to travel and learn through new experiences is not to be taken for granted. When I remembered this, your grace flooded back into my life. In Turkey, the first time I quit my corporate job to travel, you were there. I flew off alone to Istanbul and found you in the kindness of strangers. The Turkish woman who helped me board a train, walking me to the correct terminal.

The countless shop owners, Couchsurfing hosts, and strangers who invited me in for a cup of çay. And of course the truck driver who – speaking perhaps three words of English – managed to pick my companions and me up from a dusty street, then drive several hundred kilometers before making us a roadside meal. I felt you strongly in these moments. We met again in Bangkok, where the joy of Songkran made me happy to be alive. Scooter rides from Pai to Mae Hong Son with my band of biker buds. Bathing and feeding – but not riding – the elephants near Chiang Mai. And of course, khao niao mamuang. How grateful I am for each of these experiences. Recently I drove across the Canadian border to Vancouver. There, atop a high bluff overlooking downtown, I sat quietly and looked around. You came in the form of a raven. Big and bold, begging for a bite of my granola bar, and perched defiantly upon Eagle’s Bluff, the raven made me laugh. You, of course, followed. For what is Gratitude if not expressed through laughter, a smile, a kind gesture?

I often feel you from on high. Looking down on cityscapes, or wilderness, from the mountaintops. In British Columbia I gazed out over the Salish Sea to Stanley Park. How many times had I visited? Each, a lasting impression. Walking the seawall to Prospect Point, Lion’s Gate Bridge looming near. Sunset beaches. A place to walk, wander, and relax. Beyond Stanley Park, I could see the downtown high rise buildings and a flood of memories rushed in. All-you-can-eat sushi followed by club nights and late mornings. Discovering Vancouver’s breweries and restaurants. Justin Timberlake at Rogers Arena. Canucks on the big screen from a North Van bar. The miracle of efficient public transit, so absent from my native Seattle. Vancity’s Skytrain may always be my favorite metro ride. My gaze turned west from Eagle’s Bluff, I could make out Vancouver Island in the distance.

A green mass of land rising from the Pacific, its features as fuzzy from the bluff as my childhood memories of the place. One day I’ll go back. Will you meet me there, Gratitude? You always do. Further north, I looked down upon Bowen Island. So still, so quiet from such great heights. Northern still I peered, up into Howe Sound. Knowing – but not seeing – Squamish and Whistler beyond. More places with memories to return to, with Gratitude. How blessed I’ve been, and how grateful I am to know the people and places I’ve met. To see the world from high above, and remember how it looks from street level. To cast my eyes across vast waters, pick a point, and say, “I’ve been there”. Thank you, Gratitude, for accompanying me in my travels. Hope to see you soon. Sincerely Yours, Brandon

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