Learning to know, to do, to be, and to live together
Monday, 22 July 2013
Hold out your hands to beauty
PATRICK LANE
Special to The Globe and Mail
Published
Last updated
Photo source: deviantART.com
Back in early December of 1958, I was 19 years old, living with my
wife and baby boy in a two-room apple picker’s shack a few miles down
the road from here. I had a job driving dump truck for a two-bit outfit
that was working on a short stretch of highway just down the hill from
where this university was built so many years later. I remember leaving
the shack and walking out to stand by the highway in the wind and snow. I
stood there shivering in my canvas coat as I waited to be picked up by
the grader operator in his rusted pickup truck. The sky was hard and
grey. Its only gift that winter day was ice disguised as a fragile,
bitter snow.
As I stood there in the false dawn, I looked up for a
moment and as I did an iridescent blue butterfly the size of my palm
fluttered down and rested on the sleeve of my coat just above my wrist.
It was winter, it was cold and I knew the Okanagan Valley where I had
lived most of my young life did not harbour huge, shiny blue
butterflies, not even in summer. ...
I have never forgotten it and know the encounter changed me. There are
mornings in our lives when beauty falls into our hands and when that
happens, we must do what we can to nurture and protect it. That we
sometimes fail must never preclude our striving.
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