I stood transfixed before a stunning 1902 Canadian Impressionist painting of a city snowstorm. The talented and groundbreaking Helen McNicoll beautifully captured the wild, uncaring ferocity of the wind-whipped snow in contrast to the friendliness of the few city lights discernible through the storm.

Another Art Gallery of Ontario visitor joined me. I later learned her name was Barbara. She murmured in the sotto voce tones the painting inspired that she believed Montreal to be the depicted city, even though the card on the wall announced the work’s name as Ontario Snowstorm. She remarked that she was born in Montreal. I found myself saying by reply, “I was reborn in Montreal.” My comment pleasantly surprised us both.

We all have a time and place that we emerge into Planet Earth as the unique individual called by our name. Yet no matter where and how we began, a renaissance can occur.

Montreal played a crucial role in my 1983 rebirth. For it was there, at the age of 30, that I discovered Nam-myoho-renge-kyo, the Buddhist chant of Nichiren Buddhism that revives and empowers everything good and positive in us. I’ve written before about how messed up I was back then, so suffice it to say that Buddhist practice in the SGI community saved my life. And no, this is not hyperbole.

Recently the stars aligned to give me another renaissance opportunity. A vacation. A real vacation. Not a staycation checking into work emails. A real, get-on-a-plane-and-fly-to-a-different-country vacation.

And vacate I did.

The word “vacate” usually means to leave a place that one previously occupied. The place I vacated was small, restricted, and often sad and lonely. My inner place.

I didn’t like it or enjoy it but I had resigned myself to it. The various lockdowns imposed by terror over Covid-19 certainly did their damage. Yet I cannot blame that situation alone. I have long had a happiness-undermining habit of practising deprivation.

In the UK, my sister, aided and abetted by her partner, treated me to nonstop gloriously intense and fully immersive experiences of lovely people and places under almost exclusively cerulean skies. And my perception changed.

I used the time I spent sitting in the back seat of the car as we drove from one wonderful place to another for more than capturing on my phone the enchanting scenery we drove through. I reflected on myself. On my life.

I saw that my intentions to water the garden of my life had proved largely unfruitful, because I kept standing on the hosepipe. I kept stopping the flow of abundance with endless stories of why I can’t or shouldn’t do this or that.

Now, I appreciate that the primitive part of my brain wanted to keep me safe. However, the more I followed its strictures, the tinier my life experience became. Obeying fearful thoughts effectively painted me into a tiny corner. Of one single, solitary room. Looking with longing at life through the window but not participating in it, because: “I can’t.” “That’s not for me.” “I’m not that kind of person.”

And let’s not forget the debilitating effect of all the negative thoughts about people – including myself – that I indulged in. The blame. The recriminations. The grudges. The complaints. The bitterness. The arrogance. The hatred. The self-pity.

Yuck!

As we drove through Scotland – the country of my heart – I thought, “What a waste of time! How foolish!”

I haven’t come back the same person. The wonderful vacation – the best of my life, in fact – got me through the glass ceiling of my mind and gave me an entirely different perspective on my life.

I realised that the important thing is that there are beautiful places everywhere. There is something wonderful to be experienced everywhere. And I can do that. Right where I live, now.

No accident, then, that shortly after returning to Toronto, through a series of coincidences, I found and am rereading the wonderful work of Og Mandino – “The Greatest Salesman in the World.” A slim volume, it nevertheless packs a powerfully positive punch. Among the profound pieces of wisdom I’m daily imbibing is this:

I look on all things with love and I will be born again.

and this:

From this moment all hate is let from my veins for I have not time to hate, only time to love.

While my transformation is not flawless, I can truthfully say that my previous nervous preoccupation with money, which constantly churned out thoughts of “I can’t afford it,” has greatly abated. And I am kinder to myself, more caring. Before starting to write this paragraph, for example, I allowed myself to stop and eat, to replenish, instead of heartlessly, I would say now, pushing myself to keep going. I also allow myself a less strictly restricted diet.

It feels like I’m living, not just surviving. That I have a right to enjoy myself. That enjoying myself pleases the Universe.

And it certainly pleases me. ❤