Dear Cousin, I need to remember your words "it’s our resistance that kills us. What will come will come. The only thing I can change is how I welcome it." Thank you!
This reminds me of the rural phrase I grew up with: loaded for bear. Used when someone is prepared for whatever comes (the original phrase alludes to carrying a rifle or shotgun loaded with large bore ammunition in case of bear attack). The bears visiting your cabin and your car are in the physical sense looking for food after a warm, dry winter and early spring that left them hungry and their natural food sources scarce. The bears in your dreams are asking for your attention and awareness in a challenging time for all of us. And you, magical, intuitive, meaning-making you, are responding to them all with your openness and care. Thank you for being you, and illuminating our understanding of bears and thunder and lightning, all portents in this season of unsettledness and change. Hugs to you!
Thanks Susan for the reminder of the bigger picture, the reminder of the tribe of beings, including you, who whose resistance if their fierce love of the wild. Big love right back.
ayyyyy! Oh my I love this so much! The presence of mystery as palpable as the paintings you draw with your words! as the bear print left on your seat that you will probably never ever clean now! Your voice loud as thunder shakes hidden places in me with delight. Suddenly everything is in some way possible even though it's completely unclear. Can't explain that, but it's beautiful
"Suddenly everything is in some way possible even though it's completely unclear." Thank you for this reflection. To walk with mystery is to open to thunder. That is my meditation as I learn the language of the more-than human.
And yeah, the print in my car will remain as long as it wants to remain.
A young doe, recently split from her mother, I think, strolls through my front yard, heading toward the young hedgerow of tasty medicinal herbs and native plants, EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. I run out there to chase her away, but she stands her ground until I am almost within reach. We had a storm with booming thunder and lightning last week, and I watched as the young doe stood still in the pasture, trying to make sense of the noise and light show. With the next boom, she ran across the pasture to the woods. Back inside, one dog was on the couch, comfort toy in mouth, seeking comfort, and the other dog was hiding in the shower.
I always wonder how animals make sense of thunder and lightning.
I have many bear stories, too many for this comment, but I think of them as great old souls.
Sue, thank you for this story. I always think of deer as tenderness, as gentleness. So for this one to stand her ground while also holding that medicine is beautiful in a way. I also wonder about animals and thunder and think that the wild creatures understand its presence differently than domestic ones. Headed your way in a few week, fyi, but to Wallowa Lake.
For Fishtrap! I looked and see you are teaching the year-long program. I have considered attending the summer program, but I don't write consistently enough and don't have the lyrical magic that writers whom I admire seem to have. I am in a transitional phase in my life, filled with angst and urgency, but also with a sense of being trapped. Seems like good fodder for writing, but so far, not much has happened.
Yes. Lake Wallowa is such an inspiring place and the teachers and writers that gather there are so amazing and inspiring. I am certain that you would get unstuck there. Craig Childs greets the sun over the lake each day with his flute and each day there are craft talks and sometimes a tree walk. It'd be lovely to see you.
Dear Cousin, I need to remember your words "it’s our resistance that kills us. What will come will come. The only thing I can change is how I welcome it." Thank you!
This reminds me of the rural phrase I grew up with: loaded for bear. Used when someone is prepared for whatever comes (the original phrase alludes to carrying a rifle or shotgun loaded with large bore ammunition in case of bear attack). The bears visiting your cabin and your car are in the physical sense looking for food after a warm, dry winter and early spring that left them hungry and their natural food sources scarce. The bears in your dreams are asking for your attention and awareness in a challenging time for all of us. And you, magical, intuitive, meaning-making you, are responding to them all with your openness and care. Thank you for being you, and illuminating our understanding of bears and thunder and lightning, all portents in this season of unsettledness and change. Hugs to you!
Thanks Susan for the reminder of the bigger picture, the reminder of the tribe of beings, including you, who whose resistance if their fierce love of the wild. Big love right back.
ayyyyy! Oh my I love this so much! The presence of mystery as palpable as the paintings you draw with your words! as the bear print left on your seat that you will probably never ever clean now! Your voice loud as thunder shakes hidden places in me with delight. Suddenly everything is in some way possible even though it's completely unclear. Can't explain that, but it's beautiful
"Suddenly everything is in some way possible even though it's completely unclear." Thank you for this reflection. To walk with mystery is to open to thunder. That is my meditation as I learn the language of the more-than human.
And yeah, the print in my car will remain as long as it wants to remain.
I read this twice this morning; the second time more slowly as I remembered my own stories of bears, a persistent young doe, and lightning.
A young doe, recently split from her mother, I think, strolls through my front yard, heading toward the young hedgerow of tasty medicinal herbs and native plants, EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. I run out there to chase her away, but she stands her ground until I am almost within reach. We had a storm with booming thunder and lightning last week, and I watched as the young doe stood still in the pasture, trying to make sense of the noise and light show. With the next boom, she ran across the pasture to the woods. Back inside, one dog was on the couch, comfort toy in mouth, seeking comfort, and the other dog was hiding in the shower.
I always wonder how animals make sense of thunder and lightning.
I have many bear stories, too many for this comment, but I think of them as great old souls.
Sue, thank you for this story. I always think of deer as tenderness, as gentleness. So for this one to stand her ground while also holding that medicine is beautiful in a way. I also wonder about animals and thunder and think that the wild creatures understand its presence differently than domestic ones. Headed your way in a few week, fyi, but to Wallowa Lake.
For Fishtrap! I looked and see you are teaching the year-long program. I have considered attending the summer program, but I don't write consistently enough and don't have the lyrical magic that writers whom I admire seem to have. I am in a transitional phase in my life, filled with angst and urgency, but also with a sense of being trapped. Seems like good fodder for writing, but so far, not much has happened.
Yes. Lake Wallowa is such an inspiring place and the teachers and writers that gather there are so amazing and inspiring. I am certain that you would get unstuck there. Craig Childs greets the sun over the lake each day with his flute and each day there are craft talks and sometimes a tree walk. It'd be lovely to see you.
Would love to hear, Sue!