The Ghost of Me

It’s almost All Hallows’ Eve and the possibility of a spectacularly spooky ghost story from the lake was more than I could bare. So I did a little research and talked to a few elders on the street but came up completely empty handed. It seems there is nothing creepy or scary about this lake whatsoever.

So instead of a lake ghost story, I’m going to tell my own true ghost story. This is the story of the Ghost of Me.

I’m not exactly sure where her origins are from, it’s likely she came into existence from certain horror movies past and a young girl’s over-stimulated imagination. Regardless, she has haunted me for what seems like my entire life. 

As a young child she hid in the closet of my bedroom in the form of a “boogeyman” and often I would hear her clumsy footsteps on the creaky floorboards upstairs, especially when I was home alone. Sometimes she took the form of an evil witch, identical to the wicked one in the Wizard of Oz. In this form she would lie in wait for me under my bed, tormenting my sleep and sending me shrieking to my parent’s bed on a nightly basis.

 My auntie Madge, who I spent most weekends with, fed my love of demons, witches, and the paranormal. She was a devout movie fan who kept me up until the wee hours to watch 'The Brides of Dracula’, ‘Rosemary’s Baby’, ‘The Haunting’, and the ‘Village of the Damned’ to name a few.

As a teenager she took the form of a poltergeist, flinging objects across my bedroom in the dark of the night and on the odd harrowing occasion even shaking my bed. During this time she loved gadgets such as washing machines and hair dryers and would delight in terrorizing me by turning them on when I was home alone. At the time, I was told I was under a lot of duress as my mother was very sick with cancer and the stress was likely the cause of the disturbances.

During my years as a young mother she took on another form, that of a shadowy entity that hovered just below the ceiling in my bedroom. Her evil motive then was to guide my soul from my body while I slept with the intent of taking it with her or making it her own. During this period she regularly opened doors for me and made several visual appearances (much to the delight of visitors) dressed in a wedding gown. 

My thirties were a period of low activity, her presence only made known occasionally in dreams maybe once a month or so. During this time, I thought I could actually see the light at the end of the tunnel and a time when I would be free of her.

Then I hit my forties.  Her presence came back with a vengeance in the form of night terrors and sleep paralysis. During this time she took the form of a deranged woman possessed with unearthly strength. She would come to my bedroom, always around 3 a.m., with the intentions of dragging me physically from my bed to take me to God knows where.

Then something interesting happened. I found myself alone, and oddly enough this is where I began to gain some understanding of her. I took this time to get inside myself and to analyze my life to that point and the ghost that had followed me.

I looked back at my adolescence; at the premature death of my mother and its effect on me; I got deep inside the head of the girl I used to be. I went all the way back to what seemed like before time itself—to another life. I discovered that something had gone seriously amiss when my adolescence was snatched abruptly away and the stark realities of real life was thrust full force upon me. I should have gained confidence through this period, but in reality the scars of puberty ran much deeper than they should have, painfully sitting beneath the surface of my new-found adulthood. 

I always thought if I just appeared confident enough, my shortcomings and insecurities would magically disappear. To some degree it worked—the old “fake it ‘til you make it” trick. But faking it is not enough in itself. Fixing the surface of you does nothing for your foundation. It’s not that I didn’t feel valued for my intelligence, or respected by my peers, I did, but there was always the hollowness deep inside me where self-confidence, amongst other things, was supposed to be.

  

The eventual truth didn’t come quickly, or easily, but it did sting when it eventually slapped me in the face—insecurity (in one form or another) will always be present in my life, so deal with it.

I learned to exorcise the things that plague me—my insecurities, shortcomings, and the sneaking suspicion that maybe I'm not as good a person as I make myself out to be. Taking stock of myself, so to speak, was not easy but not such a bad thing either. I learned that to be really happy, I needed to become more self-aware...to know what exactly makes me happy inside, what really makes me tick, otherwise my existence would remain meaningless. 


The real problem with modern society is that it puts too much of a premium on perfection. This more often than not keeps us from delving too deep, for fear of uncovering something bad or ugly down below. So instead, we keep our heads in the sand, never dealing with the things that keep us down.

I know now I can’t hide who I am, or was. And the good truth is I have looked myself in the eye and uncovered my demon, my ghost. Quite simply, she is me and I am her; nothing more, nothing less. Regardless of the missing sum of my parts, my life has value and I am finally able to give myself credit for the gift that I am.

She still comes around once in a while when the opportunity strikes—when I’m alone, or feeling particularly vulnerable. But for the most part I’m done with her, tired of her, bored even of her old tricks. But still, she can be persistent—scratching at the door and clawing at the window.

Running Amok

A Sunday morning hike is as rejuvenating as a mid-week run. If not more so. For me, hiking is to running the equivalent of “stopping to smell the roses”. The slower pace enables me to see more, experience more, and is a more viable option for weekend visitors wishing to tag along.

Today’s solo hike was no exception. The off-the-beaten-path route I chose took me to dizzying heights and left me breathless at the top of a giant cliff. As I surveyed my world below I sat and pondered awhile on a rocky outcrop. It would be pretty difficult to get lost in my playground on the west side of the lake. This area of land is bounded by the lake on the east side, giant cliffs on the west, McIntyre Bluff on the south and Okanagan Falls about 10 kilometers to the north. There are four boundaries so getting lost is not really a problem, however, getting down could be.

Gasping at the view, and for air, this thought fleetingly crossed my mind as I surveyed the route I had just come up. What was I thinking? It was steep! And I'm not exactly your average mountain goat.

I took a few moments to enjoy my vantage point and inhaled the incredible view.  From way up here I could see my tiny house down on the lake with Farmer Thompson’s field stretched out behind it and Hatfield Island in front of it. I scanned the meadow directly below me for signs of wildlife and noticed one of my regular running trails; from up here it looked like a skinny line drawn through the grass. The thin veil of early morning fog which accompanied me at the start was lifting now, revealing a warm and blue October sky behind it. How perfect could it get?

I turned south and carefully contemplated a route down, the vivid fall colors everywhere a feast for my eyes and a beautiful distraction. Following the natural valleys down, I eventually came to a vaguely familiar trail at the bottom of a loose and narrow scree slope. I was confident this course would lead me to a point just below the pictographs and I could meander on down to the fishing lagoons which wasn't too far from my waiting boat.

Everyone has their own “Utopia” or "Shangri-La", that idyllic spot they can go to for sanctuary and salvation. This place is my sanctuary and its right here on my door step, I am in my Utopia every day I am here. It is where I feel most free--free from the maddening crowds of the city, free from bumper-to-bumper traffic congestion, free from the rat race! It occurs to me that I'm daydreaming again.

Out of the corner of my eye I'm awakened by a slight movement. It is a deer silently analyzing the offbeat figure moving by--that is me. I'm used to the silent treatment from deer and wait for him to instantly pronk away, but he doesn't, he just stands and watches. He stays long enough for me to capture him on my iPhone and then he is gone.

It feels late, the deer has left and a strange silence has descended. How perfect can it get?

The Hunter's Moon

I love the moon. It has an air of mystery to it and tonight is a full moon which only adds to the magic in the air. All full moons draw attention to themselves by the way they reign supreme over the night, so that each one has acquired at least one special name. These names date back to the Native Americans in the eastern and northern parts of North America, who had various names for the full moon during each month of the year. European settlers quickly adopted the moon names used by the Native American groups, though most people today are only aware of a few of those names.  Tonight’s full moon is called the Hunter’s Moon, Blood Moon, or Sanguine Moon. Many moons ago, Native Americans named this bright moon for obvious reasons. The leaves are falling from trees, the deer are fattened, and it’s time to begin storing up meat for the long winter ahead. Because the fields were traditionally reaped in late September or early October, hunters could easily see small prey that came out to glean from the fallen grains. Probably because of the threat of winter looming close, the Hunter’s Moon is generally accorded with special honor, historically serving as an important feast day in both Western Europe and among many Native American tribes.  Our Wiccan friends call this the Shedding moon or the Falling Leaf moon. It holds great reverence to many on a spiritual journey. Many believe that the veils between worlds are the thinnest on this night so pay close attention to any visions or messages received at this time. According to Wiccan lore those wishing to contact loved ones may wish to do so on this night as the bridge between worlds is easiest to cross. Whatever you choose to call it, full moon, Hunter’s moon, the big wind moon, moon when water begins to freeze, it really doesn’t matter, it's hard to ignore a full moon.  And so tonight some time after midnight when the moon is shining her brightest over me and illuminating the magic of the lake, I will go outside and sit on the lakeshore and take a few special moments to enjoy its beauty and of course to thank it for shining on my path.  Wherever you are, whoever you are, be sure to bask in the wonder that is the full moon. Marvel at the magic it casts upon the earth and remember that all throughout history, it has been an important part of our past.

Ley Lines

Ley lines are supposed alignments of a number of places of geographical and historical interest, such as ancient monuments and megaliths, natural ridge-tops and water-fords. The phrase was coined in 1921 by the amateur archaeologist Alfred Watkins.

In 1969 the writer John Michell revived the term “ley lines”, associating it with spiritual and mystical theories about alignments of land forms, drawing on the Chinese concept of feng shui. 

Shirley Maclaine writes: earth energy. It can’t be seen or tasted and it doesn’t have an odor. But, the effects of Earth energy can be experienced in all of those ways. It isn’t loud, but it can be heard. It can’t be touched, but it can definitely be felt.

And so it was when I first came to be at Vaseux Lake three years ago.  Mark and I were here looking at a vacant piece of property for sale on the south shore. It had been vacant for many years, nothing but an old decrepit shed occupied the site, along with a tangled mess of overgrown shrubs, trees and grasses. It definitely didn’t look like much. But as I sat on the edge of a crumbling stone wall near the waters’ edge, I felt it -- earth energy, and in a magical instance the communicative harmony between earth energy and me was reawakened, and I knew this was where I was supposed to be.

Two years later we finally purchased the property and I would once again feel, hear, and smell that energy during an incredible storm one summer night. As I stood on the shore of the lake near midnight, the rushing wind took on a supernatural power. It was all I could do to keep my feet on the ground. And as I lifted my arms and closed my eyes, I felt I could easily fly away and become one with the tempest whirling across the lake. 

Vaseux Lake lies in a very narrow section of the Okanagan Valley, between the towns of Okanagan Falls and Oliver. The lake, which is 4 km long and 1 km wide, is fed and drained by the Okanagan River. It is surrounded by a diversity of habitats, such as a cattail-bulrush marsh at the north end where the Okanagan River feeds into the lake, and some water birch woodlands surrounding the marsh. Arid grassland benches to the east and west give way almost immediately to rugged rock cliffs and ponderosa pine woodlands. To the east, the pine forests change to Douglas-fir and western larch forests above 1000 metres. Other fauna of conservation interest include Bighorn Sheep, Pallid and Spotted Bats, Great Basin Pocket Mouse, Night Snake and Racer.

The west side of the lake is home to the Vaseux-Bighorn National wildlife area. An area established in 1979 to protect habitat for species deemed, at the time, to be special and important; including the charismatic California bighorn sheep, which was considered endangered. This area is a dynamic natural system influenced by erosion, flooding, fire, grazing, and other natural processes. 

So is it really any wonder that I can feel an incredible amount of earth energy here? 
 
Today the lake is flat like a looking glass, and the water is low. A few ducks are dozing on my suddenly expanded beach, their necks curled back on themselves like miniature swans. It is quiet here, well if you don’t count the "barking" geese, or the raucous “shaack, shaack, shack” of the Stellar’s jay family foraging in the thicket near the house. It is the perfect situation for the likes of me. Welcome to my new life of discovery and adventure on the lake!