Sitting in my car at the trailhead, writing, listening to some inspiration, making notes — I look up, and a coyote is hustling by – very fast, pauses to dig and sniff, then trotting onward, full of purpose, poised to pounce if something comes near. It is approaching dinner time, I believe.
I say hello, so wonderful to see you, thank you for being here – I’d like to get to know you, is there anything you’d like to share with me?
I am still practicing this listening thing, being still, finding that quiet, nothing place where real listening can happen. Sometimes I seem to be better at it than others. I’m not sure I’m getting anything, and then I hear:
“Get out of your car.”
And then he is gone, disappeared into the brush. I chuckle. Great advice. I realize I have been hanging out indoors working on some things all afternoon, and came here to take a walk, and there I am, still in the car, out of the fog, and the wind – which I am well aware is going to make it a rather brisk walk. But there you have it – who is to question the wisdom and very direct suggestion of a coyote?
So, on go the jackets, and out for a walk.
I am drawn to a trail I have not been on before, pausing many times to listen to the birds, the wind, appreciating the grey-toned beauty in the fog. Around a bend I notice a large rock outcropping at the top of a hill. It is not that impressive, but it keeps catching my attention. I say hello, and there is nothing. I say hello again, and have to slow way down to hear a response. A sort of hello comes back. I smile. I am appreciating the beauty if it’s lines, the colors, I wonder about who lives up there, how it is to be that particular hill.
“Not all mountains can be Everest or Annapurna, or K2, or Tamalpais.”
Of course this is true. I am a little apologetic for my earlier thoughts that this rocky hill was not very impressive. And I sense this does not really matter to the hill. It is just fine in it’s place here on the planet. I send love, and keep spending some time. I am enjoying being there, seeing what might come.
I wander around a corner, check out some other views, and come back by once again. I pause, ask if there is a message for me… finding that still place again, and then it comes. It is not in so many words as much as impressions, a sense of this truth being shared.
“We are all connected to the core of this earth – it does not matter how big or small, loud or quiet, active or still – we each have a place, we each add to the balance and completeness of what is here. I may be small in your eyes, but my roots are as strong and powerful as any other hill, ridge or mountain, as we are all connected – I am part of the core of the Earth, linked to the center of all. It is in my nature to be what I am, just as I am, right here in this place, and I have peace in this knowing.”
And there it is. Nature has a way of answering a question, even if we are not clear that we have asked it. I smile, nod my head “yes”, with hands on heart, and say many thank yous.
Indeed, there may be a grand purpose I would like to fulfill, or a big dream, or a service I would so much like to offer – something that will help what is or is not happening, changing, shifting on this world. The imbalances and inequities, the pain and misunderstandings, it can all be so overwhelming for any of us who care at all about another. We each have our part to offer, no matter how small it may seem, or how unclear it feels, or how “unimpressive” it might be. Yeah. The world is ready and waiting for each of us. Time indeed, to get out of the car.
All Content Copyright © 2012 Photos/Words by Amy Allis