Category: Eco-Spirituality
The Grating Expanse of Stillness

The Grating Expanse of Stillness

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I set my alarm for 4.30am so I could go hike my favorite trail today. I had mixed feelings because it’s busy on a regular summer day, but the 4th of July weekend…I wasn’t sure.

Then, I woke up at 1.30am and couldn’t get back to sleep, so turned off the alarm and decided if I woke up early enough to get a parking space, I’d go and if not, I’d just stay home and skip the stress of the throngs of people.

I finally went back to sleep and slept until 6.09am, about the time I needed to be pulling into a parking space at the trail head. Whatever. I didn’t want to be around a ga-zillon people anyway and drive through the park with the insanity of traffic on this busy weekend.

But I miss the trail and miss the full day it takes to hike it….considering the day starts at 4.30 when I wake and then the hour long drive to the trail head, the 3 hours up and 2.5 hours down and then trying to pull out on the highway that runs through the park and the inevitable stoppage of traffic if someone takes a curve too fast. Two…three hours waiting for wreckers, rangers, and ambulances isn’t that unusual. So…gardening for me today.

I’m an active person who finds hiking in these mountains a wonderful way to engage with Nature and burn off my inner crazy. Stillness isn’t easy for me…at least on a meditation cushion. 

I enjoy stillness through yoga…a sort of moving stillness that is at the same time grounding and expansive. But perhaps my most still moments are when I’m hiking the steep trails through upper elevation forests of fir and spruce trees. I’m physically exerting myself significantly, yet the trees and rocks and moss ground me deeply into their place so I can soar.

Traditionally we think of stillness as sitting and ‘doing nothing’ and letting our mind still. My mind is at its stillest point when I am in Nature, connecting viscerally with everything around me. That’s when everything aligns and calms within me. But sit me on a cushion and tell me to be still and silent and my mind screams at the grating expanse of stillness. 
Cycle Pray Sing

Cycle Pray Sing

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There is a sacred place I visit. It’s close to my home and calls me to come visit the Ancestors and the guardians of the land of the Principal People, the Anigiduwagi or People from Kituwah. When I visit, I walk or cycle and greet the Ancestors as I begin. Then I listen. Or pray. Or sing.

Because it’s so close, I can visit before my work day begins and did so earlier this week. I was thinking about my brother and his struggle to recover from a viral infection after having open heart surgery. So after making the connection with the Ancient Ones, I started pedaling and praying and asked for a sign for him. Then I started singing.

I had gone a little over a mile when I came around a corner and saw a massive bull elk standing in the gravel road. He heard my song and turned to look at me. I stopped my bike and thanked him for his strength and beauty, took a few photos and turned around to leave him to his morning.

As I completed the 10 miles of cycling, I thought of my brother, sang for him and prayed for him and thought of the elk that appeared and then, later in the ride, had disappeared as I returned to that section of the road. In Native American cultures, the elk often symbolizes strength, power, and endurance. In many cultures it is seen as a symbol of protection. These are all qualities that my brother needs as he recovers his health.

Every time I visit this sacred place, there is a blessing given as I approach with gratitude, respect, and gentleness. As we walk through life, if we offer the qualities to all places, animals, and people, I imagine the world will show us many blessings and we will be lifted to a new place of living. On that particular day, I thanked the elk for reminding me of the qualities my brother has and has around him as he works to recover his own strength and endurance.
The Gift of a Dying Mouse

The Gift of a Dying Mouse

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Three days ago, my hound dog Vern started barking his alert bark. That particular bark can mean a dinosaur is attacking, an eagle is in a tree chasing a squirrel (that actually happened), a box turtle is crossing the driveway (that also happened), or something really, really bad is about to happen. I went out twice to look in the direction he was barking. No turtle, eagle, dinosaur, or possum (a regular visitor to our yard). 

Finally, my frustration at his incessant barking caused me to take the search outside the gate. I followed Vern’s gaze and saw a deer mouse pup that was struggling. It was fully furred but its eyes were not quite open, so it was probably just under two weeks of age.

I mushed up blueberries and it would try to suck on them.

I picked it up and examined it. There were no marks on it, it wasn’t bleeding, and it looked healthy except it clearly was not healthy as it couldn’t move well. It actually appeared to have neurological damage in the way it was moving. I held it to keep it warm and it perked up a bit. We walked around the edge of the driveway, me calling for mama mouse and looking for potential nest sites. After having no luck, I got a plastic container and cut a hole in the bottom, put a small, shallow water container in it and a little cloth and placed it there, under the carport, hoping the mother would locate it and take her babe. 

After a couple hours I went to check on it and it had crawled out of the container and a large ant was biting its tail. NO WAY would I allow it to suffer like that. So, I brought it inside to my bathroom/bathtub and created a little deer mouse pup habitat where it resided for the past three days.

Online image of deer mouse pup

I knew the mouse was dying when I found it, otherwise I would have taken it to a wildlife rehab facility. I wanted to show it love and care for however long it needed to make the journey to the other side. 

I kept it warm, offered tiny seeds, put out a shallow container of water, mixed a paste of ground almonds and water to leave for it. I tried not to handle it, but it loved curling up in my palm as I did Reiki on it. 

Several times I’d check on little Bobbi and think she was dead. I would pick her up and she would move around and snuggle into my hand or climb around on it. I’d gently place her back into her mouse house and leave her to her journey; however, I was frustrated that she might be suffering, even though she appeared to sleep whenever I left her. Late this afternoon I brought her a beautiful yellow flower from the garden and laid it with her. And finally, a few hours later I checked on her and she had passed.

It broke me open. And I needed to be broken open. I’ve been so saddened by the toxic behaviors of so many and I’ve found myself feeling depressed. Bobbi, the deer mouse pup, helped cultivate compassion and kindness within me, and through her three day and night dying process, helped remind me that there is still gentleness in me and in a world that can appear so full of hatred and meanness.

Now, more than ever, it’s important for us to find the depth of love within ourselves so we can reflect it out into the world. Little Bobbi instructed me on how to do this as she made her way to the spirit world. Our little woodland in the Smoky Mountains had a lot more light shining and going out into the world this weekend due to our work together.