THE LAKE

Saskatchewan's Wollaston Lake is vast. It is fed primarily by the Geikie River, and water is also brought to the lake by precipitation, as well as numerous little inlet streams and rivulets. Creatures might live in a small inlet, unable to see the lake until they happen to reach it. Then they'll see other Lake-life, and Wollaston Lake may seem to be the entire world because everything that matters to them seems to happen there. There will be faint signs of a world beyond the Lake -- a traveler, an aircraft, a sound, something on the wind. But the Lake creatures might not pay much attention to these signs. After all, they are surrounded by the Lake, and mostly by others who are also creatures of the Lake. They grow strong there, and they may never think to leave.

But look beyond.

Lakes have an outflow. Wollaston is a bifurcating lake: it has two outflows. One outflow eventually leads to the Arctic Ocean, and the other to Hudson Bay. Each outflow is ecologically different from the other and from the Lake itself. There are wonders along the paths of the outflows: vast inland sand dunes surrounded by boreal forest, churning waterfalls, cliffs that reflect the colors of the sky. There are whales in the ocean. And they are singing.

Creatures who enter an outflow from the middle of the Lake will know nothing about where they are headed. At this point in their lives, the information of value is no longer gained by looking back at the creatures who earned their place on the Lake. It comes from looking around their changing world, looking ahead toward new surroundings, and learning what they can from those who've gone before.

We've each lived in our version of the lake. Now we can choose to travel beyond it.

We can see hints of what lies ahead, but we cannot know with certainty.

We can pay attention to the signs that reach us.

We can decide what to carry.

And we can decide whether or not to look ahead toward wonder.