I went to the lake today. It was not my lake, not the lake that I grew up on. But it filled me up with that same sense of longing and nostalgia that all lakes seem to do.

I live in a big city now. Full of cars, dense air, and angry commuters. Don’t get me wrong, I love the city. I love the diversity and culture and the constant energy. But I didn’t realize just how much I needed to get away from all of that until I found myself in bed at a cottage, by a lake, in pure darkness. I flicked the lights off and took a deep breath as the world faded to black around me. It felt like the first deep breath I had taken in months. In the darkness, I suddenly felt as though I was seeing more clearly than I had since my move to the city. Like a veil had been lifted… I could see myself and my life from a new perspective.

Many say they escape to nature for the peace and quiet. But to me, this was anything but silence. This was a different symphony. Instead of the cacophony of city life — with cars honking and people talking over one another — it was a wildlife concerto. Much like a busy metropolis, nature parties long into the night. My ears were filled with the sounds of crickets chirping, waves crashing on the rocky shore, and birds calling out to one another. The cicadas chimed out from the top of the trees as the chipmunks rustled the leaves. And I slept deeply and soundly beneath the stars.

By the end of the next day, as my return to the city drew nearer, I reflected on my time at the lake. As I sat on the dock with my feet in the water, watching the gentle ebb and flow wash over my toes, I realized just how much I had needed this getaway. Like pressing the reset button, I felt refreshed and at peace. I realized just how much negativity I had been holding on to over the last few months; from our environmental crises, to corrupt politics, from my work, to my personal life… I was holding the weight of the world on my shoulders. Now, I felt re-connected with the world around me, as though the wilderness was helping me bear that weight. Tears of stress, then relief, then gratitude flowed off of my cheeks and into the lake, carried away with the waves.

As someone who grew up going to the lake every summer, I realize now how much I took that time for granted. I realize now how much I needed that reset each year, and how much I am missing it now. Maybe it is the simple fact that we, as humans, are meant to exist alongside nature. To return to where we came from. To find balance.

Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit.
-Edward Abbey

A few days ago I would have said my watermark was Trout Lake in Sault Ste Marie. The lake I grew up on and spent my summers catching frogs, diving off the dock, and running through trees with my dog. But today, I think I have to say that my watermark is Pigeon Lake in Bobcaygeon. The lake that helped me reconnect and see clearly once again.