One With the Elements

One With the Elements

by Lily Iona Soucie

As a child, on summer mornings, I would pack cucumber, mayonnaise, and bologna sandwiches, pour milk into a jar, borrow a bike - either Uncle Jack's or my sister's boyfriend's - and speed through Calary's streets until I reached the outskirts of town.

For the last few miles I bumped along gravel roads, legs straining and heart thumping, eyes fixed on the ground, moving slowly up the last steep incline. But hearing the distant roar of water cascading over Glenmore dam - my destination - gave me renewed strength and determination.

Once there I found an image to articulate my overflowing re-adolescent energy. The dam expressed raw power, water churning and foaming into a writhing, waterpool, leaping into the air in graceful arcs. It felt like the heart of the world, water pulsing and churning. You couldn't walk away from there the same person you were when you arrived.

Contrasted to the deafening, swirling, dynamism of the dam were serene pools within the water treatment plant. Inside them were fish, swimming silently back and forth, the pool about six feet across and one hundred yards long. Here the water was still except when fish broke the surface, or gently stirred it up from beneath, a total contrast to the tumultuousness of the dam.

Both areas interested me for different reasons. Inside the building I could relax, let go of the terrible excitement the dam generated. I wandered among the pools, watching the fish slip through the clear, green water, soothed and hypnotized by their rhythms, their endless motion, the svelte way they moved. With their swift movements, the fish evoked tension, contrasted to the water's smooth surface.

Outside the grounds were spacious, with lots of areas to explore: I followed well-traveled deer trails until I could go no further, lounged in shady places to eat my lunch, and sprawled on the grass, dreaming and watching the clouds change into elephants and dragons, resting for the long ride home, my own energy temporarily subdued in deference to what I had experienced in that place.

Before leaving, I had to return to the dam one more time, which was never out of earshot - the thrashing waters more powerful than anything I knew. But even more amazing was the concrete wall erected to contain the water.

Of course, the wall needed equal force to counteract the water's thrust. I was witnessing nature and civilization meeting; civilization put restraints on nature, determined where, when, and how the waters would flow. But the thrill was knowing that the dam wasn't omnipotent; the constant pounding of the water could eventually erode and overpower the wall.

Drawn to where those opposing forces met - nature and civilization - I often walked out on a narrow less-than-a-foot-wide ledge that extended out over the dam so I could stand staring down into the deafening roar. I was either too young or too foolish to feel frightened, to realize the danger. I simply acted on impulse, compelled to get close to this power.

Luckily, I never faltered and returned to safety each time. But while I was out there, balanced over the two opposing poles, I was freed somehow of ordinary life and at one with the elements - I was fish, water, earth - I lost my separate identity. I simply was.

These moments were brief, and I never reflected upon them then. Later I would climb on my bike, Mason jar empty but filled with the sweet, heated odor of milk, wrapped in the crumpled brown paper bag that held crusts from my sandwich, squashed in between a piece of waxed paper.

Tired and hot, I would start the long, dusty ride home; face, arms, and legs tingling from sunburn, calf muscles tight from all the pedaling. Though weary, I was alive in a new way - I noticed cloud cover rippling like waves on water, the vast prairie sky extending to infinity. While at that time I hadn't traveled any farther than Banff, 80 miles away with mountains that rose up like giant molars on the horizon, now there seemed no limit to where I might go: the world beyond the mountains appeared approachable, for I had been emboldened by my trip to the dam, its energies internalized.

If you enjoyed these reflections, we invite you to discover other thoughtful and personal writings in the pages of The Best of Pilgrimage and Pilgrimage Vol. 26 and Vol. 27. These can be ordered directly from this website; please click on "How to Order."