A chalking squirrel, feeling leftout and moving into our power to create connections with ease

In a world where reality is stranger than fiction sometimes, it is true a squirrel stole a piece of chalk and hauled it up a tree. The bushy-tailed would-be-chalker-in-residence looked at me deeply when I asked what it was going to do with it - if it had a canvas or anything in mind. It is gone now - perhaps he chalked a note about how the wildlife in Chernobyl has been adapting to thrive in spite of the radiation, giving hope to those who feel despondent. Or perhaps he ate it just to prove we can learn to thrive in spite of eating things not designed for ingestion.

At the duck pond, the ducks heard the world is on fire and simply kept grooming, diving and doing yoga. Across species, I’ve noticed squirrels, ducks and dogs all groom the same. I caught one male mallard doing a pretty stellar tuck. In the bushes I saw a beautiful damsel fly with a shiny blue butt and on my way out, I even saw a turtle! Here on the home front, a robin appeared to be about to mow the lawn, while our last magnolia of the season is beginning to bloom.

On my dance walk I passed a young girl, who reminded me a little bit of myself at her age. We smiled at each other as she rode her bike by. I walked past my neighbors, two sets of them talking, and I knew I wasn’t included. I could feel their connection with each other different, it’s own, I was very clearly unwelcome. And yet, these same people on a day they need the medicine I have to offer, will seek me out or be grateful for the love that I give. It hurts to be left out but it is also an invitation to the wholeness already inside me and the opportunity to manifest connections that honor the totality of my being. There is a wrathful aspect to spirituality that isn’t about being against anyone, but more like a focus that consumes or transmutes what would be in the way of the Prayer that wants to pray itself awake in the dream of your life.

I get back to my intention for the kind of connections I want to manifest. And later, on my walk to meet up with my husband and son (I know I’m not actually going to end up there but I know it’s a starting point for something else to happen on my way…) I run into a woman who lives in the house down the way that once housed the Iranian family that gave me the Hafiz painting after my son and I sung the song we co-wrote called “Salaam Shalom.” The song began as a prayer praying me when I learned who lived there and as I birthed it spontaneously, a woman who is Jewish came upon me singing and said, “I heard this angelic singing and wondered where it was coming from. Then I saw it was you! She and I have talked about the need for love, for understanding. The Iranian family moved and now this woman, a single mom who survived an abusive marriage and works at the University moved it. She is awesome. We stood on the sidewalk and talked authentically and joyfully. We talked our kids - the struggles as well as our faith that we are being led one loving moment at a time and that we and they don’t have to have it all figured out yet. We talked about forgiving people now we would forgive when we’re on the other side. We talked about empath stuff and learning to learn witness with compassion without needing to fix people and the beautiful day. She told me she doesn’t like her daughter’s therapist because they are too much of a peer. I told her I am the child of two therapists who were very dysfunctional and did their best. She asked if they are still alive. I said I assume so, but I haven’t talked to them in years.

In the evening, my son and I had pasta and broccoli together on the deck.