“The Wisdom of Lily and the Fishbowl” by Anne Louise Pittens

 

In the spring of 2024, I went on adventure and learned to let go. I was headed for a writing retreat in Port Carling, Ontario – Muskoka country – but with a few threads to pick up along the way.

Brian Henry, long time editor and writing coach, hosted the retreat at the lovely Sherwood Inn on Lake Joseph. To get there, I flew from my home in Whitehorse, Yukon, to Toronto. In a nostalgic moment, I stayed the night at what used to be called The Bristol Place Hotel, now The Westin, on the airport strip. For

ty-six years earlier, I had stayed there for my honeymoon. I was curious to see if the hotel had weathered the years any better than my marriage, which had not done well at all! When I entered the lobby, I discovered that I did not remember the place. A bit like that first marriage, I thought, as I settled into my room. All the best to let things go.

A luxurious bed looked inviting, but I had a terrible sleep, fretting about a dozen things that have long escaped my memory. Primarily, I was nervous about meeting up with my brother who was driving me to my destination early in the morning.

Beyond a few texts every year, I had not spoken with him in a long time. I hoped we might enjoy catching up in person, but I knew he was not in a great head space due to recent personal trauma. I was determined to stay positive.

At seven am, I gave up trying to squeeze out anymore sleep and made my way down to the lobby in hopes of finding a decent cup of coffee. After a minute of searching, I located the coffee shop crammed into the back corner of the lobby like an afterthought. 

The lineup was long. The food display case was next to bare, and the lone person working was run off her feet. Exhausted from travel, I zombied my way into line and waited my turn.

As I approached the order station, I spotted a goldfish bowl on the counter. Sad place for a fish, I thought. No choice but to endlessly swim in circles, never getting anywhere, never moving on.

Fortunately, there was no fish trapped in the bowl, just a jumble of cards. They were the sort of card you get at a florist shop to message the recipient of your floral thoughts. Beside the bowl was a jar of pens and a stack of blank cards.

Instructions read as follows:

Leave a happy thought!

Take a happy thought!

While waiting for my coffee, I picked up a pen and card and considered what I might write. I have never been good at this sort of thing – like writing a message in a greeting card. I never know what to say. At that moment, my coffee arrived and instead of leaving a happy thought, I took one.

Seeing my brother pull up, I stuffed the card into my back pocket and climbed on board. By the time we travelled for an hour, we had worn out our topics of choice and tumbled into silence.

On the upside, we were beyond Toronto and past Barrie. The further north we drove, lakes and rocks took over from urban housing and shopping malls. Ah Muskoka! As a child, I spent many summers embracing the chilly waters of Mary Lake at Port Sidney. Now, I could feel my lungs opening to the fresh air.

Over the years, I had all but forgotten the jewel green of springtime leaves and how sunlight sparkles on the water.  White clouds graced the sky and reflected across the glassy surface of the lake, a perfect mirror image. A spring breeze blew up, and watercraft tethered to docks bobbed in the surf, straining at their ropes like dogs’ strain at their leashes. Boat houses dotted the shore.

And of course, here and there, a Muskoka chair (Adirondak chair if you’re not from Ontario) sat perched on a lakeside rock looking to the horizon. All it needed was an occupant in the requisite Tilly hat, pen and paper ready. A cup of coffee and a resting hound would complete the picture.

Muskoka Chairs at Sherwood Inn

The Sherwood Inn was welcoming and warm. Nestled into a lovely, treed setting, it sat on the edges of Lake Joseph. I have a thing about older architecture and was not disappointed. Dark green shutters stood out against the white building and in the evening, the interior lighting cast a warm and welcoming glow. I could hardly wait to explore after checking in.

Tired from the journey, I went to my room where I was delighted to find a private bathroom, a writing desk, a comfortable bed, and a cozy seating area. The window looked over a large deck and beyond that to the lake.

With time before the retreat started, I changed into more comfortable clothing to have a snooze, hopeful I would awake feeling renewed and refreshed. As I dropped my jeans on the chair, the card from the coffee shop fell out of my pocket. This was the message:

Lily Elliot

You

Are

Lovd

Loved

Based on the writing, it was hand-printed by a child of six or seven years of age. I could imagine her standing there, elbows on the counter and her tongue held in just the right position to form the letters.

As we travel through each day, we never know how the little things we do or say are going to impact the world around us. Somewhere along her journey, young Lily left a note for a stranger to tell them they were loved.

My lucky day! I really treasure that she felt no need to get a new card and start over because of a spelling mistake. Lily knew. Mistakes are ok. Everyone makes them. We move on.

And in that moment, with Lily’s lesson in mind, I moved on. Three blessed days of writing in a beautiful place lay ahead of me. The food was delicious, beautifully presented, beautifully seasoned, and bountiful. Great service is always a pleasure, and it was in abundance. To be able to share this time with others who love to write – and Brian who loves to help and encourage – was the best tonic ever.

But a note to Lily; wherever your travels have taken you, I wanted to say a heart-felt thank you. I don’t know how I ended up at the same coffee shop as you and I don’t know how you came to write this card, but I have it now. It is tucked into my bedroom mirror.

Now, no matter what is going on in my world, every time I look at your card and your message, I feel lighter in spirit. I recall those beautiful spring days I spent at the Sherwood writing retreat in Muskoka, investing my time in the things that matter, and learning to let go of the things that don’t.

Anne Louise Pittens lives in Whitehorse, Yukon, with her husband Michel and Gryphon – a Swiss Mountain Dog who hates the cold.  With almost a full retirement recently upon her, Anne is spending her time writing, shovelling snow and shivering to produce a little extra heat.  Occasionally she can be found scrolling through old photos of Mexico and Costa Rica. The Yukon is a magical place and welcoming to every person who cares to give it a try.

See more pieces about or inspired by Brian’s retreats, workshops and classes here.

For more essays, short stories, and poetry by you fellow writers see here (and scroll down).

See Brian Henry's upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and four-day retreats here.