Nature is a lovely companion
the deer came last night. They come every night. I step out onto my porch in the moments before dawn and see that they have left me traces of their presence, quiet as they are, they never wake me. But there are trails in the snow.
It reminds me of snails. Snails leave trails of light, something of themselves, wherever they go. You can find those trails, shimmering in the sunlight, if you go close to the ground and look carefully and happen to be in a place they have journeyed to wherever they are going.
In
the snow the deer go and I find their trails. Every morning. They lead
right up to my porch and end exactly there. Do they step onto the porch
then? Right outside my bedroom window? They must, but I cannot see
their prints because the snow ends where the porch begins. The porch is
made of cement, flat and even with the earth, and so the deer feel
invited to step upon it.
Down
further, in my yard, is a huge tree and the deer dance there in the
dark. They leave circles of themselves, stomping the snow so the green
grass shows.
They
walk around my house too. Every night, they circle my house. Like
protectors. Guardians. Drawing circles with their light deer feet around
my house, Celtic circles, sweet Goddess magic, magic symbols. They
leave their prints in the snow so I will know they have come in the
darkness as I dream.
They
love me, these deer. I feel it. I feel love pouring from their eyes
when we come face to face in the woods and stop and stare at each, each
of as still as frozen ice, barely breathing with the beauty of
encountering something so wild and different from ourselves. We stare
until we feel laughter bubbling up inside us, until the silence
overwhelms us with its power, until we know we could stay that way
forever.
Yesterday
I encountered a huge herd of deer. The most I have ever seen alone with
just me in the woods. I glimpsed them through the trees. I was
listening to Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass on my iPhone with the
speaker on. Normally, I walk silently. But this evening, I let the words
play. Let the deer listen. Did not try secret stealth. Let them know I
was there. The words were too beautiful to turn off. My fingers were too
cold and lazy to move. I let the deer hear. Watched them flickering
through the trees as they disappeared into the shadows of evening.
This
morning I see the pathways of light they have left in the snow. Their
circles of light, their light graceful hooves leaving traces of
themselves wherever they go.
And they remind me, as the snail trails remind me, leave only light wherever you walk. To leave only light—be light, live light, think light, breathe light, feel light, only light. And the Lightness calls out in the form of deer and deer prints and snail prints, so still, so silent
