Healing

As I start to heal, I experience the challenge of taking it slowly. Remembering not to rush back into old practices allows me to integrate what I have learned from my experience. Today, I can not do what I was able to do in the past. Using the pain to guide my pace makes it less likely that I will slip back into same patterns. I will use the discomfort to remind me back to the present while I actively attend to my next steps.

Gratitude

At times like this, I am struck by how vigilant I have to be of my own tendency to take things for granted. From the electricity that runs the alarm clock that wakes me to the fresh air I breath in as I turn off the noise to the floor that greets my feet as I get out of the warm comfortable bed in which I sleep. And all that transpires in the first moments of my day.

Today, I will be doing my best to pay attention to the hundreds of times I am gifted with abundance, and be grateful.

Chipmunk

As I approached the Mint patch, I saw someone scurry into the underbrush. Waiting for a moment, I saw Chipmunk emerge from the other side. She then ran across a patch of grass, stopped and turned to look back at me. Chipmunk was not panting and did not seem upset by our close encounter, she simply moved to a safe distance and stopped, to look back.

This got me thinking about the assumptions I make about my creature cousins and the prey/predator mythology that is so much a part of my culture. Does Chipmunk see me as a threat or a danger or as a participant in an interaction that she wants to engage in from a distance? Threats are to be eliminated and dangers are to be avoided, but Chipmunk doesn't seem to live her life doing either of these things. She does not eliminate threats by undermining my life, nor does she avoid danger by living far from me. She lives close to me, and our lives intersect because of our similarities. She was looking for some Mint this morning at the same time I was.

I know that she stopped at a distance that I could not cover quickly and looked back at me. But why?

Today, I will be holding onto the idea that I don't actually know the answer to that question. I will also be declining the invitation to think that I do.

Squirrel Lesson IV

This morning, as I came out the Eastern door, Squirrel began an alarm call. It was the longer kaw call with a wavy tail flicker. She started from across the lawn, than ran closer to me. As she sat on top of the woodpile and kawed at me, I was struck by her. There she sat, not five feet from, letting me know she knew I was there. Her kaws kept calling my attention to her, demanding my focus. After a bit, she ran off the woodpile and over to a White Pine stump, where she continued her calls.

Squirrel's actions remind me of bravery. Her willingness to get so close to me gets me thinking about what it takes for me to do things I am afraid to do. I will remember Squirrel when I am facing a challenge, and concerned about what might happen.

Orion Rising

This morning, I saw Orin in the Southern sky. This usually means cooler weather. The warmth of the dark morning got me thinking about how there is no firm connection between Orin rising and cooler temperatures. This got me thinking about how even seeing Orion as a particular collection of stars is similarly not a firm experience. I see Orin because of where I am in the Cosmos. Slowly the Sun rises and Orin begins to disappear.

Today, I will be paying close attention to my ideas about reality and how many of them are linked solely to where I stand. I will be paying attention to the importance of other people's experiences and perspectives and how they can enrich mine.

Maple Tree Scars

It's wood splitting time here at the cabin which means that a part of every week will be devoted to splitting and stacking this years burning wood. As I work through the pile, I have noticed something about one of the trees. As the rings grew out every years, they never made a complete circle. Maple tree must have been scarred in some way. The vertical scar continued to be incorporated into Maple tree as she grew. No more that a sixteenth of an inch wide, I would not have noticed it if I looked at the tree, but now that I have cut the tree into sections it is quite obvious. The scar runs almost completely to the center of the tree. It must have been injured when it was quite young. Even with such a deep scar, one almost as old as the tree itself, she still grew into a tall beautiful Maple, as majestic as any on the land.

This gets me thinking about my own scars. My culture teaches me that scars are something to hide, something that is debilitating, something that must be healed if we are to survive. Maple tree teaches me that a scar is something that can be grown with, something that is descriptive of the past, but not something that has to limit the future. I realize that Maple tree, without the scar would be different, but not better.

Today, I will live like Maple tree. I will accept my scars, recognize that they have changed me, but stay curious about the ways in which I have been changed. I will decline the cultural invitations that describe scars as limiting or as problems that need to be solved. I will remember that me without the scars would be different, not better.

Squirrel Lesson III

Squirrel buries Acorns. I have seen her do this many times. I have also seen spots in the snow where she has tunneled down to collect them again. Yesterday I saw Squirrel burring Acorn in the woods, but it wasn't until this morning that a thought struck me. There will be many Acorns at the base of Oak tree where she drops them. Even in the Spring after Mouse and Vole have been eating from this larder all Winter there will still be many Acorns left. So why would Squirrel bury Acorn if she could simply go back to the base of Oak tree and dig some up. It occurred to me that some of the Acorns Squirrel buries grow into Oak trees. These Oak trees provide the Acorns of the future. Squirrel in her burring is connected to a far larger arc than the one I was thinking of. This arc goes far past this Winter or the coming Spring. The Acorns from an Oak tree planted this fall will not be picked for ten or twenty years. Does Squirrel know this?

Today, I will be considering my actions in the context of Squirrel and Oak tree's arc. I wonder what effect that will have.

Pine Grove

As I sat this morning, a large tree crashed to the ground out in Pine Grove. Pine Grove is one of my favorite spots on the land. There are many large Bull Pines out there, and the forest floor is soft and brown from the years of falling needles.

I wondered which one had come down, as I knew I would notice the change. It got me thinking about how the time we have to enjoy what is is always limited.

Today, I am cherishing the moments I am in, while avoiding the temptation to try to hang onto them. Pine Grove is no longer what it was, but what it has become is also worth treasuring.

Squirrel Lesson II

The first thing I heard this morning as I walked out onto the Eastern deck was Acorn falling. I looked up and, sure enough, Squirrel was up in Oak tree sending nuts to the ground. It had been weeks since this process began. Day after day, Squirrel has been climbing up into Oak tree, harvesting Acorns, and sending them Earthward. One by one they fall, accumulating beneath the tree to be buried, or lost, or stolen by Chipmunk.

I was struck by Squirrel's … Squirrel's what? Was it persistence? Was it hard work? These questions got me thinking. Squirrel didn't stay up in the tree for the whole day picking every Acorn she could find. She didn't toil for hours on end. Squirrel wasn't planing for the worst, making sure she had downed enough nuts to get her through a possible difficult Winter. She didn't even seem concerned that Chipmunk was stealing part of what she had dropped. What was it that let Squirrel know she was done for the day? What was it that brought her back again to harvest more on subsequent days? How did she know she when had done enough?

Today, I will be paying attention to ideas that suggest that I can not be prepared enough, or that I have to be concerned about all the potential problems that I could encounter down the road. I will be doing my best to keep my head where my feet are remember that there is something about how Squirrel does what she does that keeps her, first and foremost, from falling out of the tree.

Birchy

We call the dog that lives with us Brichy. In the morning when I head out to the front porch to eat my breakfast, she likes to come along. She takes her time, though. When I am ready to go, I open the front door, and wait for a bit. Eventually, she ambles around this corner or that depending on where she was lying. She stops and looks at me, and I say something like, “Let's go.” There is no predicting what she does next. She might start for the living room, or head around the back side of the island in the kitchen. Whatever she does, it is usually the least direct root out the door.. Now you may be wondering if she actually wants to come out with me. I don't know, but I can tell you that if I leave her inside, she mopes at the door and whines until I come back and get her. I do know tat she likes to be chased. In fact she like to turn just bout anything into a chase or into a game. I appreciate this about her. She seems to enjoy turning everything into something fun.

 

This gets me thinking about how I might do more of that myself. Birchy has the ability to turn walking out the door into a game. I usually just walk out the door. Today, I will be paying attention to times when I can turn what I'm doing into a game and see what effect it has on my experience.

Old

As I rounded the Northwestern corner of the cabin, I saw two Deer having a snack over by the North stonewall. Turning to the East I saw Phoebe resting on Apple tree. Looking back to the Northwest to check on Deer, I saw Squirrels chasing each other. In that moment it occurred to me that nothing about this day was dissimilar to a Spring day. Then I realized that every day contains the four cycles of Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter. A Spring of possibilities, a Summer of action, a Fall of contemplation, and a Winter of rest happen each day regardless the season.

This got me thinking that there is a difference between getting old and being old. Getting old happens as a result of the passage of seasons, be they diurnal or annual. Being old is result of choices I make. This gets me thinking that I have the power to participate in what old will be for me. I can choose to see wrinkles as a symbol of what I was, or as a testament to what I have become. I can count on changing, but how I understand those changes is up to me.

Today, I will be paying attention to times when cultural assumptions leak in and attempt to modify the preferences I have about how I see myself and the world around me.

Sameness

As I opened the Eastern door of the cabin and stepped out, Acorn fell from Oak tree. I looked up to see Squirrel clambering through the branches. The morning was warm and thick. A good day to be lazy, I thought. Just rolling along. Nothing out of the ordinary.

By this time I was in the screen house, and heard a splash on the old Cow pond. Louder than duck, I thought, craning my head to see past the plants that blocked my view. I saw a black bird hit the water, but only briefly as it was lost behind a bush. Cormorant? Loon? If it was Cormorant she would swim to the log and climb out. I adjusted my view to see the log and, sure enough, there she was fluffing out her soaked feathers.

As I watched her fly and drop and swim and climb back onto the log to look around, I thought about how quickly my morning had turned from familiar to extraordinary. I had never seen Cormorant on the pond before. Just when I thought I would settle down to a morning of same she made it different.

Cormorant reminds me that I can never know when the landscape of my path will transform. She gets me thinking that perhaps the sameness that I was experiencing before she showed up was more about what I was paying attention to and not what was actually going on around me.

Today, I will keep my head up and my eyes open as the landscape of my path unfolds in front of me. What will I notice and what will it take to shake me out of the illusion of sameness that might overtake me?

Wait For It

The Rain started so softly that at first I thought it was a gentle wind. I stopped and watched, but could not see the leaves moving. I stepped off the porch and felt the tiny drops falling on my face. The Sun shone brightly, but there was a dark patch of clouds just to the East. I reasoned that the Rain must be coming form there. The Peepers had been peeping, but as the Rain fell their peeps turned into a sound I hadn't heard before. They were cooing. After a brief shower, the rain stopped and the frogs fell silent.

This got me thinking about the gift of these fleeting experiences. The Rain only lasted several minutes, and the cooing even less time. I had to be there to experience Rain, and I had to take the time to experience how Frog responded.

Today, I will be thinking about slowing down to notice what is in front of me, and taking the time to see what happens next.

Cutworm Lesson

I picked the last apricot this morning. Slicing it open relieved that Cutworm had been inside, munching through the juicy flesh. The residue of her skillful tunneling was a slightly darkened trail flowing in one side of the fruit and out the other.

This got me thinking about how although I could describe Cutworm as a pest, what makes her a pest is how similar she is to me. I don't burrow into apricots, but I sure like to eat them. I don't suing from trees on a thin strand of silk, but I do like to climb in trees.

These similarities exist for most of the creature cousins my culture describes as pests. Cutworm and Slug and Potato Beetle and Rat and Wolf are all pests because they like to eat what I like to eat and live where I like to live. Cousins like Salamander and Turtle and Frog aren't described as pests because they don't like the kind of places I like or the kind of food I like.

Today, I will be thinking about how conflict can sometimes spring from sameness rather than difference. It seems to me that this change in awareness might illuminate a whole different set of possibilities for living together with those I might have considered pests or even enemies.

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