(Post #50) A Sanctuary of Peace and Wisdom in the Heart of Richmond BC

Following the not-so-romantic getaway to Asia (if you missed that unexpected turn of events, take a moment to scroll back a post or two), I was excited to return to the comforting routine of house and pet sitting. The plan? From mid-February to March 8 house/pet sitting in Richmond, BC—home to two affectionate cats, a serene townhouse, and, unbeknownst to me, a sanctuary that would gently awaken my senses in the most delightful manner. 

This house/pet sit was a triumph from the beginning. Not only was it conveniently located near the Vancouver airport (which was useful for picking up my laptop and personal items from a generous couple I met in Malaysia—a long story), but it was also close to the ferry for future island adventures. Extra bonus: cats don’t require 7 a.m. leash pulls or muddy paw clean-ups—just tranquil companions and adaptable schedules. 

As my feline friends went about their business, I took the opportunity to explore Richmond; a place that was new to me. So, I did what any self-respecting wanderer would do: I drove around aimlessly, followed enticing scents to delightful cafes, and intentionally got lost. One standout suggestion? Steveston Village—Richmond’s charming waterfront. I strolled along the pathways, enjoyed solitary meals in cozy eateries, and silently expressed gratitude to the universe. It was pure joy. 

And then… the unexpected turn. 

One morning, while heading to Steveston, I decided to take an alternate route and unexpectedly encountered the gates of the International Buddhist Temple, which not only welcomed me but enveloped me in warmth. From the moment I left the bustling street behind and entered this sacred, beautiful space, I sensed a shift. The atmosphere felt different, lighter. It wasn’t merely a spot to admire stunning Buddha statues and ancient customs; it was a haven to simply exist in the moment. 

Now, I’ve visited temples before—typically in tourist mode, snapping photos and murmuring “ooh” at the architecture. But this experience was unique. I parked, stepped inside, and immediately felt as though I had discovered something I didn’t realize I was searching for. No photographs. No distractions. Just breath, presence, and smiling faces that seemed to recognize me as if I had been expected all along. 

I returned. More than once. On Sundays, the temple hosts a full-day ceremony: sutras, chanting, and teachings from Venerable Guan Cheng, the Abbot and lifelong student of Buddhism. I attended—out of curiosity—and remained for the entire day. The chanting? It resonated within me. The words? They penetrated my thoughts, gently nudging at questions I hadn’t considered before. I explored their library and left with free books, a CD, and the surprising urge to embrace stillness for once. 

Buddhism s not just a philosophy. It is a reminder. 

A reminder that life doesn’t have to be hurried or constantly adjusted. A reminder to pause, to embrace the unknown, and to trust the journey—even when it strays far from the original plan. 

Amidst feeding felines, enjoying tea, and sidestepping raindrops, I found myself drawn back to the temple. And something changed. Unlike my temple experiences in Asia, where I was merely an awestruck traveler, this time I wasn’t just observing—I was absorbing. 

I came to understand that Buddhism transcends incense and ceremonies. It’s about embracing awareness. Showing kindness. Achieving balance. In this unforeseen little niche of Richmond, I began to practice just that. 

So indeed, Richmond was destined for more than tranquil pet care. It reminded me of the reasons I embrace this nomadic lifestyle. It’s not always picturesque, and it certainly isn’t foreseeable, but it brims with instances that expand my perspective in ways I never anticipated. 

I departed Richmond with more than just paw marks and tidy litter trays. I left equipped with spiritual tools. 

Next on the agenda: a brief two-week return to Esquimalt to stretch my legs and hone my dog-walking abilities—after which I’ll set off for a six-week revisit to Cadboro Bay (from April to mid-May). You might recall that treasure from November—the stunning modern residence overlooking the ocean, boasting views of Mt. Baker and the Olympic Mountains that could humble even the most experienced wanderer. 

What kind of adventures await me this time? Who knows—but let’s just say I’m not returning as the same individual who left. Richmond provided me with more than just another house-sitting opportunity—it gifted me with a fresh perspective. A gentler, more mindful approach to viewing my life. 

And perhaps, just perhaps, that’s the essence of this entire wild journey.