Between Shores

Life in the Crossing

Between Shores

The SeaBus leaves North Vancouver with the confidence of routine. It has made this crossing thousands of times, and yet each journey feels singular, a small act of faith across open water.

The skyline waits in the distance, layered in glass and steel, rising beneath a sky that seems undecided. The clouds hold both shadow and promise. The water mirrors everything without commentary. I have always been drawn to crossings.

There is something about moving between shores that feels like a metaphor for living. We are rarely stationary for long. We move between roles, between seasons, between certainty and doubt. Between the quiet of home and the demands of the city. Between who we were and who we are becoming.

The SeaBus does not hurry. It cuts a steady line across the harbour, leaving a soft wake behind it. The passengers on board carry their private stories, meetings to attend, groceries to gather, family waiting on the other side. Some gaze outward. Others scroll through the glow of their phones. Most do not consider the miracle of daily passage.

And yet, there is a kind of grace in repetition.

The building on the right, solid and grounded, holds its line. Cormorants perch along the roof as if they are sentinels of the harbour, patient witnesses to human movement. They know something about stillness that we often forget.

The skyline in the distance is a reminder of ambition, the vertical reach of progress. But the water between here and there reminds me that movement matters as much as arrival.

We live in an age obsessed with destination. Promotion. Visibility. Scale. But perhaps the deeper life is found in the crossing. In the in-between. In the quiet interval where reflection is possible.

This photograph feels like that space to me, suspended between two shores, under a sky that refuses to resolve into simple blue. We are always crossing something. The question is not whether we move but how consciously we travel.

Today, I am grateful for the passage.

Rebecca