A while back, one of my artist friends, Joanna Powell
Colbert, wrote something that forever changed the way I looked at my backyard.
She urged her readers to notice the other animal families that live alongside ours on our properties. And not just to notice them, but to dial into them the way we do our human neighbors—recognizing their patterns and quirks.
She urged her readers to notice the other animal families that live alongside ours on our properties. And not just to notice them, but to dial into them the way we do our human neighbors—recognizing their patterns and quirks.
Certainly I was aware of much of what lived in my backyard
before. There are the birds that live in the honeysuckle tangle. The rabbits
that nest under the shed. The mice that live beneath my deck and occasionally
invade my house. Then there are the passers by—the mourning doves, the
cardinal, the bluejay, the possums, the owl and Harvey, the neighbor's cat who
likes to torment my dogs.
I knew all this, but had never seen it as a community
before. Nor did I recognize my role as the steward of this community. For
example, I take precautions so my dogs can't get at the bunnies under the shed.
If I see Harvey in our yard, I warn him before I release the hounds. And,
essentially, I don't do anything to discourage these families from thriving on
my property (though when the mice enter the house, all bets are off.)
So it was in this mind last year when I really took a good
look at the squirrels that raise their young in my tree. It started out with
birds nesting in this one hollowed out limb. But about eight or nine years ago
I saw the birds being unceremoniously evicted by the squirrels. Since then I've
watched generations of baby squirrels peek their heads out that hollow hole
looking for their mama. Then, when they get big enough, everyone moves
elsewhere, vacating the hole until the following spring.
Anyway, all that changed when, late last summer, a storm
brought down that hollow limb. The squirrels were long gone, so nobody got
injured. But their home was totaled. I kept the hollow part and leaned it up
against my tree, intending to fill it with soil this spring and make it into a
planter or other yard feature.
Well, we've had a warm winter so far. And I think someone might
have gotten pregnant early, because I've been seeing a squirrel poking around my
planter-in-waiting a lot lately. It's like s/he's assessing its worthiness for
another scurry of squirrels expected in the spring. Every time I see him sizing
it up, I want to warn him not to risk it. But I don't speak squirrel. All I
know is one push and my dogs will have those babies. It's no longer fit for
squirrels.
In our spiritual lives, we will all come across a challenge
like this—when something that has served us for quite some time now no longer
suits us. It might come upon us suddenly like it did for the evicted birds. Or
it might take time and repeated reminders to realize, like with the squirrels.
As we move forward on our paths, we need to periodically
check to see if the way we're living is in integrity with our beliefs. A
vegetarian may realize they cannot, in all good conscience, continue to wear
leather goods, for example. A yogi might realize the hypocrisy of their
cigarette or alcohol habit. Or a spiritual seeker may find that holding grudges
brings nothing but pain for them anymore. In short, the spiritual home we've built can no
longer abide certain ways of being.
As you walk through the coming week, think about the
squirrel and the choice he needs to make in order to do what's best for himself
and his family. Consider whether the ways you're acting and being continue to honor
the spiritual beliefs you've built. Observe your actions and interactions and ask
yourself questions:
·
Are you approaching conflicts from a place of
compassion and understanding?
·
Do you follow the advice you give to others?
·
Can you see where the judgment you placed on
someone else might also be true about you?
·
While you may not be saying unkind things, do
you find yourself thinking them?
·
Are you really listening when people speak or
are you thinking of all the stuff you have to do later on?
·
Would Jesus/Buddha/God be proud of the way you
handled that last interaction?
The questions you ask yourself may be different based upon
your beliefs and where you are along your path. But you owe it to yourself to
be as honest and as impartial in your self-assessment as possible. To make
progress on our spiritual paths, it becomes necessary to shed parts of
ourselves that no longer serve.
We may not always like what we see when we look inward. We
may find it's not always convenient to act in integrity with our beliefs. We
may even discover it's harder to find a new way of approaching things than it
is to stay the same. But if you're one of those people who hates it when others
don't walk their talk, then you've got to decide whether you're going to be one
of those people you hate or not.
The look on my dog's face tells me that once that squirrel's
eyes are opened to the way things really are, he will seek higher ground. And
you will too.
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