Marmot, Beaver, Otter, Heron
attending the solstice-together.
“Even a wounded world is feeding us. Even a wounded world holds us, giving us moments of wonder and joy. I choose joy over despair. Not because I have my head in the sand, but because joy is what the earth gives me daily and I must return the gift.”
― Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants
I set out to practice what I wrote about last week, marking the change of season, the solstice, through pausing and noticing. There were many unexpected delights!
This is a story of what happened with a little bit of intention, a few minutes of pause, and being open to the surprise of wonder. It’s a story of what I mean when I advocate for smaller and deeper. Smaller and deeper is pausing, noticing small moments, small ideas, small inklings, and following the invitation they offer.
Tuesday evening, I walked along the river path in Idaho Falls. We were in Idaho Falls for a few days (yes, it was for a golf tournament-how did you guess?) this week. The Riverwalk in Idaho Falls is lovely and showcases all the Snake River has to offer, the falls, a Japanese Friendship garden, rock and flower pathways, sitting areas, art - and some surprising wildlife.
While I meandered down the river, I found a small park with huge rocks at the river’s edge. I noticed a marmot, her back against a rock, her head just above the ground, sitting as if in meditation. Her peace made me pause, watch, and settle my soul. As I stood on the large rocks on the river’s edge, letting marmot’s peace wash over me, I heard a loud splash behind me; I looked to see what made the sound. It wasn’t apparent at first, and I continued to let the peace of the moment, the invitation to pause, fill the moment.
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement in the river. My jaw dropped when I realized a beaver was swimming upriver from where I was standing. I couldn’t believe my eyes, but I knew in my bones that was indeed what I was seeing. She swam upstream, between substantial overgrowth, the paved path, and a slight turn; I lost sight of her quickly. On my short walk back to the hotel, trying to make sense of that moment, I noticed trees bearing the sure marks they had been cut down by a beaver. I was delighted to think, on the eve of the solstice, I had an encounter with a beaver. I’m always interested in what symbolism different cultures assign to animals. Beavers are a symbol of hard work and never giving up.
On summer solstice morning, I rose early, grabbed a cup of hot tea from the hotel lobby, and set out to see what other gifts Idaho’s Snake River might hold on the morning of the longest day of the year. As I stood near where I had seen the beaver the night before, I greeted the marmot, who has busy gathering her morning meal, and watched as the sun slowly rose over the river.
Across the river from where I stood, I was not alone in greeting the day. Blue Heron landed on the rock directly across from me. Regally she stood, surveying the river, and the sun, greeting the day. I watched her take off. I was hoping I would see the beaver in the early morning, she wasn’t out that day, but soon after blue heron left, again my eyes opened wide, my jaw dropped, and I gasped out loud as I watched a silly, playful otter climb onto the same rock, to give her greetings to the morning sun. As is my practice, with each animal I saw, I bowed and greeted them with peace. (I bid you peace) I received the gift each unexpected animal offered.
The following day I was out early, curious about what the river might reveal. I wasn’t disappointed…as I walked down the river, some movement on the opposite side caught my eye. Squinting into the rising sun, I rubbed my eyes to ensure that what I thought my eyes beheld was there. It was the beaver. She was munching on a tree. I watched as she slid into the river, swam, found another rock and tree to investigate, and then dipped back into the river. We walked in tandem, her on one side of the river, me on the other, until her pace outpaced me, and I watched her swim out of sight.
These were small moments (and I haven’t even written about the owls on Monday, the deer on Saturday, and the hummingbird and owls together on Friday), unexpected and unorchestrated. The beaver, marmot, otter, blue heron, hawks, swallows, and owls would have been there regardless if I had paused long enough to notice.
The moments of peace, stillness, and invitation with the world around me this week were breathtaking, exciting, hopeful, and full of peace. Each moment was small; each interaction and sighting was short-lived and deeply profound.
This is the invitation of smaller and deeper.
Blessing
May moments of grace never catch you unaware.
May your eyes, heart, and spirit be open to the grace of what shares common space, air, and water with you.
May the peace their presence offers gently fall on you.
May your eyes and heart be open.
Lady Tan’s Circle of Women by Lisa See
I have been a long-time fan of Lisa See, so I was excited to read her latest book. Lady Tan was a real woman doctor who treated patients in the late 1400s through the mid-1500s. Not much is known about her, so based on her published medical textbook and case notes, this fictional account seeks to fill in the gaps of who this mysterious, brave, and trail-blazing woman might have been. I was transported to a different time and place as I read about her bound feed, arranged marriage, and living within the family compound for years at a time. It’s one of my top fiction books of the year.
Other favorites from Lisa See are:
The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane
Snowfan and the Secret Fan
The Red Princess Mystery (3 books)
Wild & Precious A Celebration of Mary Oliver, Narrated by Sophia Bush
This is an audiobook that celebrates the poetry of Mary Oliver. It features memories, reflections, and poetry reading by Mary Oliver and admirers of her poetry and, interestingly, former students and friends. This was my going to Idaho Falls book, and it was a perfect way to start the road trip.
Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer
I mentioned this book last week. I read it several years ago and loved reading it. I began listening to the audiobook on my way home from Idaho Falls. It was an excellent road trip book. It is narrated by the author, and the stories, insights, and pace feel right.
I’ve selected another Mary Oliver poem (because it just had to be). This one was new to me, and as soon as I read the final line, I knew it was perfect.
As always, take your time and read the poem slowly a time or two. Savor the words, the images, the emotions. See if a word or phrase seems to shimmer or shine. Notice if an idea seems to have a deeper invitation for you. Carry her words with you through the week.
Mysteries, Yes.
by Mary Oliver
Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
to be understood.
How grass can be nourishing in the
mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds will
never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.
Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.
Let me keep company always with those who say
“Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.
