La paix en Acadie

My unrelenting life ambition is to feel liberated because I deeply value my freedom. I have grown up in a distinct environment where I’ve had little to no restriction of speech, dress, belief, etc. and it is always a difficult adjustment for me to conform to the strict customs of other cultures, administrations, and households, though I often do a fine job of concealing my difficulties. Returning to school at Choate each fall is an extreme adjustment. Nothing is predictable about my life at Choate, unlike the summer days I pass raking patterns in the sand, sailing on gusty afternoons, and catching blue fish for dinner from my rowboat. When I arrive at Choate, I suddenly must follow a book’s worth of rules. I must take certain required classes. I must use strange electronic devices. I must have something to say, always. I don’t mind any of this as much as I do yearn (strangely) for it during the summer months. The independence from my family that I gain at school doesn’t exist at home, of course, and perhaps that is an important reason why I value the Choate experience so much. But freedom takes many more forms, and the forms I value the most are peace and solitude. These exist neither at Choate nor at home. These can only truly be found at my extended family summer estate in Nova Scotia, Canada. The Ardnamurchan club is an expansive summer cottage built on Spinney’s Hill looking over the Bay of Fundy, and has hosted generations of my family for 106 summers and counting. I reach the most peaceful state when I’m exploring the many islands that speckle the bay just off the coast. Some are densely wooded, others have sheep roaming around on them and raspberry bushes bursting with berries. I like to sail the Osprey out to Globe island and go digging for mussels. The only sounds to be heard are occasional gull calls and the gentle lap of the water against the boat’s hull. I’m so intangible out there, so remote, and so comforted by this isolation. Everything around me has nothing to do with me. The seals and the birds are hunting for fish, and the trees are desperately fighting the constriction of the old man’s beard lichen. Life is simple this way. Life means finding food, and going on endless adventures to do so. Then, life means falling fast asleep in the company of 40 other family members, waking for breakfast and attending the other meals prepared by the chef, and repeating the same strenuous, but rejuvenating activities the family has been performing for over a century. Peace and solitude are so luxurious. Once you’ve had a taste of them, your soul cries out for them during every lacking moment of your life.