It’s an early spring morning and I kept feeling this urge to pray. The more I attempted to ignore the tugging at my soul, the more pronounced the sensation became. So, I did what most people tend to do: I ignored that little voice inside my head whispering those irritating notions. That is not a fair veneration of prayer, but sometimes it’s simply inconvenient.
Ultimately, I yielded and gave myself over to the ever imposing influence of...ahem, God. Fetching my rosary, I committed myself to pray outdoors. Albeit overcast, the spring temperatures were inviting. Locating a nice, out of the way area of lawn in close proximity to a Native American prayer circle, I removed my shoes and kneeled until I was perched upon my haunches. Removing my rosary from a medicine bag (no, I am not an Indian; however, a Native American friend crafted the satchel because he was aware that I am uncomfortable wearing this prayer medium like jewelry; I have no pockets) I closed my eyes and settled into a meditative prayer. I was not seeking or petitioning, but simply listening with a quiet mind. What could I hear? Could God speak to me? Jesus? Mary? Perhaps a saint? Maybe just the sound of earth herself? Whatever I came away with would be fine.
At some point I heard a rustling on the bark of a nearby tree. A critter, for sure. Being the undisciplined person that I am when it comes to prayer and meditation, I cracked an eyelid open to peek at that ever so curious sound. As was suspected, a gray squirrel was doing what squirrels do...making no sense. I smiled - that kind of smile which is not merely a facial expression, but a smile which sent warm sensations throughout my body and moved back into a mode of silent observance. Occasionally, when attaining that ultimate level of still thought (some may say, ”absentmindedness”) a breeze would engulf me. I am not sure if it was a divine act or coincidence, but such sure set the mood.
As often happens with me, I can seldom keep the gears of my thoughts disengaged for long. A quiet mind can be most elusive, for me anyway. That being conceded, I slowly opened my eyes to see nature’s theatre. Whenever I do this there seems to be a sense of tranquility. This day was no different. The sun was poking through the cloud cover, the trees and small meadow took on a particularly beautiful haze, the horizon was muted, everything was serene. For a moment, I wondered whether I had been transported to an alternate-dimension, then rationality took ho1d.
Hang on a moment, something is different. Mind you, I am still kneeling with the rosary strung between my hands. Approximately ten feet away was that voracious herbivore. Okay, it could have been a different squirrel, they all look the same to me. Some would argue with that assessment, but come on. Fuzzy. Little legs. Cute ears, etcetera. Anyway, the little bugger was doing something that caused me to chuckle aloud. The sound spooked him, or her.
A little disappointed that my entertainment scurried away, I settled back into my prayer and remained open to commune with...we1l, I was still waiting for clarification! Thoughts would tumble in, but I would push them out so I could remain present. A moment of peace, then more random thoughts. Buddhists refer to this as monkey mind. Rightfully so, my mind is like a jungle gym for the eccentric.
As I was settling in, another wisp of air kissed my face. This happened on several occasions throughout my supposed stillness, but my infantile predisposition would ruin the placid moment by questioning: "Is it God, or coincidence?” Every time! Of course, with these desperate bouts of seeking a message from God, monkey mind would clutter everything up. I wanted the breeze to whisper something, but I kept running it off.
In the midst of all of this, I was present enough to hear the grass rustle. Opening my eyes, the squirrel was a mere foot or two away. Neat, but a little disconcerting. It took a couple steps closer, then a couple more. It dawned on me, my rosary may have the appearance of food. Not the crucifix, but the sting of beads. See, my beads are made of wood and are the size of peanuts. I could not fathom the idea of this little critter nibbling on the beads, so I cupped them completely between the palms of my hands. Though I was slow with my movements, the rattling of the chain must have spooked the fuzzy rodent and it retreated to parts unknown.
Back into my groove, I was settling nicely into my meditation. Of course, there were the sporadic interruptions of the mind, but I was otherwise making progress. Well, until a loud screech startled me. Within three to four feet off my left shoulder a sea gull had moseyed up and decided it was practical to make a racket, screeching for no apparent reason. Off my other shoulder, within inches, my peripheral caught sight of the fluffy tail of the squirrel. Then, another sea gull landed and commenced to join in the festivities of making noise. Why can't they sing like a robin or make the croon of a swan?
In conclusion, I chose to wrap my arms around the clouds, that the wisps of wind really were the breath of God. That the noisy, white birds represented the barrage of random thoughts which I could not keep at bay. As for the squirrel? I do not have a clue as to what its purpose was. Perhaps to teach me how to be more in the moment? See, what I did not disclose earlier was that when the little furry bugger initially caused me to laugh, he was emulating me. It, too, was sitting on its haunches. (I say "sitting" because I do not know if a squirrel can kneel.) And, here’s where things became quirky; the squirrel was holding an acorn in both paws. Why is that weird? Because such was not all that different from the way I was holding my rosary.
So, have I read too much into these encounters, my mind entertaining fantasy? Or, were divine spirits at work?
May 2011
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