Good morning little one
Deer this morning. They were in the lower yard eating what
seed the birds and squirrels had not eaten. Four doe. Beneath the New Moon. I
was looking upward and thinking how bright the stars seemed upon the New Moon’s
sky. Felt a movement and then saw movement in the drive way and then on the
other side of the fence walking up the outside of the yard, up the street back
to the mountain. A straggler followed and then turned and stood still beneath
the street light on the opposite corner and looked towards my direction. I do
not know where she was looking but to see her stand beneath the light took my
breath away. An artificial moon showed her winter gray coat. Giggle, I sometimes forget how big deer
are.
Oh little one, they belong in the mountain area not where
cars fly upon the streets not expecting deer. And yet, I giggle, why should we
not expect them? This was their home before homes for human forms were built.
Before cities were carved into the mountains, the mesas, this was their home.
Yes the drought has called them from where they have gone to escape the cars,
the cement and human activities, they have left the small areas where they can
still live and returned in search of food to where they used to roam. The bears
will soon be here as well.
Sometimes I think we are like the deer. Life, definitions,
roles, responsibilities, desires of the hearts moved further and further away
from nature’s own, until we become remote to ourselves, where our tribe used to
roam beneath all the moon’s faces and starlight. Every now and then we forage
outside the fences of safety to see if perhaps the geography our heart
remembers has returned, is there. Our feet upon the cement instead of the
earth. And yet, and yet, as I watched the doe beneath the moon we created, her
body still, her head gazing this way, I wondered…what did she see? And I knew,
beneath the new moon she saw what she saw…… her Tribe roaming freely, grazing,
dancing beneath the New Moon and stars that celebrated the New Moon in their
brightness, offering back to her the light she constantly gives to them. She
stood and saw past what I was seeing in fear…cars, dogs, homes and cement. She
saw what was, what is, and what will forever be….nature’s sweet call to be as
one is, as one was, as one will always be…free and unconfined. She and the
others had heard the Tribe’s call just like the blades of grass growing up
through cement cracks, tree roots lifting sidewalks or holding firm in the side
of a mountain. The heart of the Tribe, of Life, not to be denied. The New Moon
sang and they left their space of fear to stand and see. To leave their
presence Now with, upon, and One with the All.
I bowed with open hands to my
heart, a tear melting upon my face, like the snow, giving drink to my smile. As
I stood to turn back into the house, one last gaze back and I saw her turn,
heard her footsteps upon the cement and upon my heart as she slowly walked back…to
the mountain, beneath the New Moon and luminous stars. And I whispered, when
the sun kisses the New Moon goodnight, may I be graced to see the Tribe as did
she. To know wherever I walk, I do so upon sacred ground meant to be
experienced. May I answer the Call of Being she stood and saw.
