An Ode to Tuckamore and the Spirit of Newfoundland: A Come From Away on Resilience, Togetherness and Flourishing.

I’m writing this as I prepare to move my family from Ontario to Newfoundland. Since my first visit, one question has stayed with me: What is it about this place that stays with you?

There is something felt there that is difficult to put into words. It’s a felt sense, something experiential and deeply relational. It lives in the land, the culture, and most vividly, in the people. Calling it the “Spirit of Newfoundland” comes close, but it’s something felt, like the warmth of the sun or the damp, salty air on your skin. Like a tuning fork, it resonates with something inside you, connecting you to something larger.

Over the years of visiting, I’ve come to admire the stout evergreen brush that spreads across the island called Tuckamore. These low, dense evergreens grow in thick, tangled formations, shaped by relentless wind and salt spray. Their branches intertwine, forming a protective barrier against harsh conditions.

In a rugged environment, Tuckamore does more than just adapt and survive; it flourishes.

Tuckamore can be found stretching along the coastline, climbing into the Long Range Mountains, and reaching across the island’s vast wild interior. It grows in places that seem almost uninhabitable. Its strength lies in growing together, interwoven, resilient, and adaptive.

Over time, I’ve come to see Tuckamore’s resilience as reflecting something essential about Newfoundland itself, its history, its land, and its people.

Togetherness:

If resilience is part of the story, togetherness is what makes it whole.

Everywhere you go, there is a sense that people hold each other up. Connection and relationships are foundational. Like Tuckamore, shaped by the elements yet strengthened through closeness. The strong sense of community here is both practical and deeply felt.

This togetherness reveals itself most clearly in how people meet hardship.

Finding the Good Through Hard Times:

Newfoundland is a place of contrasts. Harsh weather, rugged terrain, and isolation are part of life. But what stands out is not the hardship itself; it’s the playful response to it. There is humour, gratitude, and a conscious effort to find the good through hard times.

I think of many of my own experiences with friends and family: kayaking in the open ocean in rough conditions, diving for mussels in frigid Atlantic waters, more than hiking but climbing through rugged terrain in Gros Morne National Park, learning to fillet a haul of cod under a dimly lit stage, or hunkering down in a small abandoned cabin to wait out a storm. The discomfort of these experiences faded to the background, while what was felt most predominantly was connection, shared experience, and a sense of awe of being in this special place together.

People don’t resist the elements; they adapt to them. Grey, foggy days aren’t wasted; they’re filled with gathering, conversation, often music and presence. And when the sun breaks through, everyone moves outside at once, as if drawn by a shared instinct to embrace it.

In small outport communities, you notice something striking: weathered homes and hardworking hands paired with warmth, humour, and openness. Conversations come easily. Strangers are treated like friends you simply haven’t met yet.

It’s a place that quietly insists: beauty and goodness are not dependent on perfect conditions. They are chosen again and again.

Come From Aways Are Welcomed:

Spend time on the island, and you’ll be asked where you’re from. When you answer, you’ll likely hear: “Yes, b’y… a Come From Away.”

However, it’s not a label of exclusion. It’s a term of endearment. It’s part of a broader way of relating and speaking in the affirmative: Yes, “my dear,” “my love,” “my son,” are phrases that carry warmth, familiarity, and an open invitation to connect.

I felt that from my very first visit over a decade ago. On Tibbs Eve, I walked into a small-town pub and was immediately welcomed into music, laughter, and tradition, complete with a shot of screech and the ceremonial kissing of a cod. It was generous, disarming, and unforgettable.

Over time, that initial welcome has grown into something deeper: a genuine sense of belonging.

A Therapist’s Perspective on Flourishing:

As a therapist preparing to continue my work in Newfoundland, I’ve been struck by how closely this spirit mirrors what I see in therapy.  In AEDP, the model of therapy I practice, we understand that we are neurologically wired not only for resilience, but also for connection, healing, and ultimately, for flourishing.

Given the right conditions of safety, attunement, and care, people don’t just survive; they grow and transform. These innate capacities are what I endeavour to recognize, reflect and help my clients reconnect with inside themselves.

What strikes me is how deeply this mirrors what I have come to feel and experience as the spirit of Newfoundland and Labrador.

In my work, I see that same truth: beneath our adaptations to hard times, there is always something innate, capable of growing and flourishing. My role is to help create the conditions where that can be felt, known, and strengthened.

In Newfoundland, this doesn’t feel abstract, it feels lived.

Togetherness, humour in the face of hardship, and a deep instinct to welcome and include are not just cultural traits. They are the very conditions that foster healing and growth.

It leaves me wondering if what has stayed with me, and what draws me here, is in part, because this place already lives and breathes something familiar that I already know, both personally and what I strive to reconnect others to in my work as a therapist.

As I prepare to arrive not just as a visitor, but to live, work, and belong, the resonance feels unmistakable. The same forces I witness in therapy: the drive toward connection, resilience, and flourishing are alive in this land and its people.

Like Tuckamore, we are shaped by the winds we endure. And like the communities here, when we come together, we are capable of far more than survival.

With a spirit of resilience and togetherness, we are all wired to flourish.

With respect and deep admiration,

– Adam Thompson