fawn

Sedentary Sunday – Day 924

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You Can’t See Me… – Photo: L. Weikel

Sedentary Sunday

The arrival of summer temperatures this weekend (it feels too early to me to be hitting 90 degrees, but what do I know?) persuaded me to indulge in a delightfully sedentary Sunday reading and studying on my porch.

Every time I consciously spend several hours away from electronics, I start thinking about how different life was in the not-too-distant past. I know I’ve read a million articles about how addicted we all are to our devices and yet I still check the headlines somewhat compulsively. (I actually chalk that up more to the trauma of the past four years than simple devotion to my laptop or cellphone.) Nevertheless, I’m starting to entertain thoughts of a shift this summer.

We’ll see.

My Real Message

The message I actually wanted to convey this evening has to do with an encounter I had on my walk this evening. Spartacus and I were ambling along the side of the road, taking in the way the sky was being painted by the setting sun.

A car approached us and I did as I try to do as often as possible, which is getting both the pup and myself entirely off the roadway. Most people smile and wave. Some obviously figure, “What the heck,” and floor it. Many are respectful and seem to appreciate that I’m trying to minimize risk for all of us. Yet I’m always a little bit concerned when someone slows down.

Yes, it could be someone I know. But even most of the people I know or recognize from working the polls or simply from living here all these decades don’t stop. They wave and smile.

So I was just a scootch concerned when the compact, navy blue SUV slowed to a stop and the passenger side window whizzed down to reveal the 50-something driver. Her short hair was dark brown and wavy, and it framed her friendly, smiling face. I wondered, “Ugh, darn it. Should I know her?”

To be honest, she did act as though she knew me – and I’m pretty confident we’ve never met. But! What she said next just made my day.

Never Hold Back

“I just had to tell you,” she said immediately upon lowering her window. “I saw my first fawn of the season today!”

Delight was written all over her face and quite powerfully washed over me as she filled me in on the details. She described where she works (a special needs care facility that’s close by and situated in a setting surrounded by nature) and detailed how she’d been greeted by a Mama Doe and her quite fresh newborn standing in the driveway only minutes earlier. She marveled at how the fawn was actually nursing right in front of her – smack in the middle of the driveway – and how neither Mama nor Baby were at all afraid of including her in their moment.

The driver joked that perhaps Mama Doe was making a peace offering because she was pretty sure Mama may have been the same deer that jumped in front of her car on her way into work today. Perhaps presenting her fawn was Mama’s apology and excuse for nearly killing the driver earlier.

Joy Is Catching

The very best part of this entire encounter (beyond imagining the utter adorableness of the newborn fawn) was the spontaneity with which this driver chose to share the unmistakable joy it brought her – and best of all – how she chose to share it with me!

I don’t know which made me grin more: the idea of the Mama presenting her nursing fawn to this woman (and the delight with which this gift was received) or that this woman somehow recognized a kindred spirit in me enough to share her news. I was simply walking along this country road at dusk and my evening was turned into an experience of sharing Nature’s magic and love.

Sharing her joy was a spontaneous act of courage. Next time any of us are tempted to do the same, I hope we don’t hesitate or hold back. We just might change the trajectory of someone’s day (or even more).

(T-187)

Working From Home – Day 646

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Spartacus Usurping My Work Space – Photo: L. Weikel

Working From Home

Since the pandemic hit, Karl and I have been working from home. When I say working, for me at least, I am primarily referring to shamanic work and focusing on my next writing project.

Once it became warm enough, I essentially moved my workspace out onto our porch. It’s a small space, but it is where I gravitate to and feel most closely aligned to Mother Earth – and She is my primary partner in everything that I do.

Peeking at me across my driveway – Photo: L. Weikel

In case you’re wondering, I probably should clarify: when I have a session with a client, I don’t usually conduct it outside on the porch. Rather, my habit has been to retire upstairs to one of our bedrooms where I can open Sacred Space, shake my rattles, use my drums, and envision my client reclined in front of me as if they were in my office. That said, as long as there’s good cell service, a session can be conducted anywhere.

But all the other time I spend writing follow up emails to clients, corresponding via email and text message, and working on my next book, I generally spend on our porch. Which means that I’m assisted by a wide range of creatures.

This post is a short one. I’m sharing some photos of only a few of my office mates.

While we don’t generally gather at a water cooler, we have been known to share a few peanuts when the going’s gotten tough.

Hanging near the olive oil for Sacred Fire – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-465)

Maintain the Flow – Day 616

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Tohickon Creek – 17 July 2020 – Photo: L. Weikel

Maintain the Flow

Eleven days or so ago, I asked for guidance in the form of a single Point of Focus for us all to hold on to as we navigate these extraordinary times. As you may recall, for that Point of Focus ‘pick’ I consulted the Ocean Oracle, by Susan Marte, and the card I chose was Stingray: Flow. My contribution tonight is simply a photograph. A photograph to help us maintain the flow.

Of course, it is a photo of my beloved Tohickon Creek. I visited her a couple of times over the past two days and she brought me enormous comfort and inspiration. I wanted to share the energy of that sacred place with all of you.

Many or maybe all of you have your sacred places, too, which bring you comfort and peace. At least I hope you do. I want to think everyone has at least one place they can go to connect directly with Mother Earth and drink in her magic.

I’m sharing this photo in particular, though, because it just seemed to capture the essence of our Point of Focus: Flow. And sometimes it’s helpful to have a mnemonic to which we can refer easily and often.

Innocence and Youth

The other photo I thought I’d share with you as we begin a new week is this action shot of a fawn scampering across the road in front of me as we took a walk last night.

What I didn’t manage to capture was the moment I discovered this little fawn standing right beside us, in the bushes right beside the road. The baby couldn’t have been more than twenty feet away from us. We locked eyes and I grabbed Karl’s arm to stop him mid-stride.

We were both astonished when the fawn started gingerly walking toward us! It was tough to maintain an air of nonchalance while frantically trying to grab my phone out of my pocket and set it to ‘camera.’

Not unsurprisingly, the baby quickly realized approaching us might not be its best choice, and it scampered down the edge of the field then crossed before us – which is the length of time it took me to get my act together enough to catch an image.

<<sigh>>

But hey. Karl and I both felt a thrill as s/he initially moved toward us so confidently. Perhaps it was just innocence and youth. Perhaps it was just going with the flow. As we begin this week, let’s all make a point of going with the flow. Until given another Point of Focus!

Scampering Fawn – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-495)

Good Deed For the Day – Day 255

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Fawn Caught in Traffic – Photo: L. Weikel

Good Deed For the Day                                                      

No, I don’t have a good deed to report for this day, but I do have a teeny tiny story to tell from a couple weeks ago.

I’d almost forgotten about it, as a matter of fact. But since I’ve been sort of training myself to take photos whenever I see something odd or beautiful or breathtaking or troubling – because I might be inspired to share it with all of you – I was just reminded of the incident when I came upon the photo I took. (Score one for the 1111 Devotion!)

Fawn Meets the 202 Bypass

As you can see from the photo above, earlier this month I encountered this little baby in the middle of a major intersection – Route 202 and something else (I can’t remember offhand the name of it). As luck would have it, I was the first car approaching the intersection to get into the left hand turn lane on the 202 bypass.

I could not believe my eyes, though, as I pulled up to the light. I saw that sweet little fawn out there in the middle of the intersection, its legs splayed in a way that only babies’ legs go, and I immediately felt a whoosh of protective Mommy energy rise up within me.

My eyes swept from left to right, assessing the traffic situation. The cars and that massive cement truck facing both the fawn and me were of particular concern. I couldn’t imagine the terror the fawn would feel if the cement truck started shifting through its 16 or 22 gears, jerkily lumbering toward it.

I was also petrified that someone – somebody not paying attention, or lost in a swirl of thoughts about where they were headed or the phone call they just had (or were having), or simply hell-bent on getting to their next destination as quickly as possible – would just plow through the intersection blindly and not even realize there was a fawn there.

As I say, massive protective instincts kicked in.

A Moment Frozen in Time

In that moment that I first saw the fawn and realized its predicament, it seemed as though everyone was frozen. As I said above, my eyes swept the scene. Convinced that no one was going to ram through imminently, but not sure if everyone was paying attention or saw the little one, I moved my car slowly toward the baby, giving it wide enough birth that it would not assume I was headed toward it, but close enough to sort of corral it toward me and away from the direction of the cement truck.

I’d put my window down and, as I am wont to do whenever I see an animal, I started speaking to it, calling to it and trying to assuage its fear even the tiniest bit by exuding a sense of kindness and care in my voice.

Have You Ever Heard a Fawn Bleat?

Much to my astonishment, it looked at me, wide-eyed, and it bleated. Over and over, this little baby kept vocalizing for its mommy (I guess) as its tiny hooves slipped on the pavement as it tried to run but couldn’t quite get all four of its legs to act in concert. I turned my car more toward the baby, herding it toward the grass and small grove of trees that lay catty-corner to my left.

I cooed to it. It kept bleating. It stopped trying to run and seemed to shake itself calm.

My instinct was to stop my car and physically get out and herd it to safety, defying anyone to hit me with their vehicle. I resisted acting upon that, though. I thought, “Only if I have to.”

In the meantime, I continued talking to it, and at one point I got within four or five feet. I could almost reach out my window and touch it. All the while, it kept bleating and bleating. Its cries were just so…young.

I Felt the Collective (Good) Will of Everyone Watching

I’m glad to say it didn’t mess around. It didn’t fight moving in the direction I was guiding it, and it did manage to stumble up the curb and onto the grass. I immediately returned my attention to where my car had ended up and got myself out from in front of the cars facing me immediately to my left, and proceeded on my way.

I was so grateful that not one horn was beeped at me (this all took place in the midst of that busy intersection) throughout this process. No cars even crept forward or acted impatiently (that I noticed, anyway). In fact, I swear I felt the collective will of all of us who were aware of this little fawn’s plight working together to get it to safety.

After reaching my destination, I decided to return home the same way I’d come. Obviously, I hoped against hope I wouldn’t find its little body lifeless at the side of the road, having made a bad choice to turn back into the intersection.

I’m happy to report – there was no sign of the baby anywhere.

Mission accomplished.

Closer Look – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-856)