It is early February in the mountains of Southeast British Columbia, and outside where 3 feet of snow normally sits on the ground, there is moss, shrubs, and the dead leaves of autumn. The winter of 2026 has dispelled any illusions of where we are collectively heading on a warming planet. The storms that used to reliably bring deep snow, and some of the best skiing in the world have for three months now, brought rain all the way up to the Alpine. We have been talking about tipping points for years. Here we are.
Looking out the window from my cozy home, it is foggy, grey and drab outside. I let myself touch the presence of an unspoken grief. It feels as if I am watching the death of winter. I have to push myself to go outside, and as I enter the forest familiar paths invite my body intelligence to adjust to what is, instead of thoughts of what should be. As I breathe in the familiar scents and feel the sponginess underfoot, something slows down inside me. Another form of attention awakens. No longer scanning bits of interest on my laptop, my eyes are drawn toward a mosaic of green tinged mosses that cloak the large rocks that seem to literally emerge out of the ground, like talisman of another age. In geological terms, they are called “erratics” half buried boulders left by the receding glaciers of the last ice age, 14,000 years ago.
Perhaps we are the erratics now, attention jumping from one shiny object to another, to the next digital link in a long unending chain.
Outside as the trail drops down the mountain. I can see the West Arm of Kootenay Lake through the mist, the twinkle of homes in the twilight of the distant shore.
I am momentarily taken aback by the strange beauty.
The dripping cedar trees, the fallen, hollowed-out birch logs returning to the earth, the grey somber lake. I stop and take in the nourishment of the moment. The vapour of my warm breath making a quiet exchange with the world around me.
There is something about beauty that speaks back to us in a sensory language of wholeness. A mountain landscape, a garden, the spark in a granddaughters eye, all reflecting back our participation in a world that has an innate intelligence and cohesion. Different from so much man-made aesthetics which takes the form of glitz, allure, and flashy technological distraction.
In these moments when we allow ourselves to slow down and be touched by beauty, in nature, in the smiles of those we love, and in the built environment where care and craftsmanship have joined, somethings stirs inside of us.
Something awakens, and we become guardians of the wholeness that beauty reflects back to us. Connected to something beyond the self. Connected to the part we play in bringing care to the world around us.
