Journal Entry – The Blessing of Days in Canmore
These past several days in Canmore have been a quiet and profound blessing. Free from schedules and obligations, each day unfolded according to its own rhythm — a rhythm shaped by the mountains, the rivers, and the soft breath of the wind. Accompanied by Mia, who swam joyfully in the cold rivers and clear mountain streams, chasing her tennis ball through the current, I felt the presence of life in its purest form — unhurried, grounded, and free. Together we walked the winding trails, surrounded by a creation that seemed to breathe with peace.
In the stillness of morning and the hush of evening, the land seemed to speak in its silence. The wind carried with it an ancient voice — a whisper older than time itself — as though the ancestors were near, watching, guiding, and blessing the moment. In the outline of the mountains, I could see faint silhouettes that seemed to form the faces of those who came before. It was as if their spirit remained etched into the stone, a living reminder that I walk upon sacred ground, and that I do not journey alone.
The mountains stood like silent prayers rising toward the sky, and the rivers sang softly of renewal and return. Even the snow that fell on the final morning seemed a gentle benediction — a blessing from both Creation and Creator alike. These moments held a spiritual weight that words can scarcely convey.
These few days became more than rest; they were a pilgrimage of the heart. They reminded me that when I slow my pace and open my senses, Creation speaks — and within its voice, the ancestors speak too. Their presence, carried in the wind and reflected in the mountains, affirms that I am held not only by the Creator’s world, but also by the enduring strength of those who walked before me. In that embrace of land, spirit, and memory, I found renewal — and the quiet certainty that the sacred is never far.
The never-ending embrace of Creation.
Closing Prayer
Creator, Grandfather of all,
we thank You for the mountains that rise before us,
for the faces in the rocks that remind us of those who walked this land before us.
We remember the ancestors — their prayers, their songs, their courage —
and we ask that their wisdom guide our steps today.
May the mountains teach us strength,
may the rivers teach us humility,
may the earth beneath our feet remind us
that we are never alone.
For in creation, You have placed reminders everywhere —
that we belong to one another, and to You.
By Rusty Gardiner, OMI
