Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Ok. This article may not be what you think it is! We aren't going to explore bunny rabbits and cycles of procreation, but we are going to talk about bunnies and creation. Hey, it's spring!
Actually, a truly wonderful experience happened for me this weekend....involving a bunny....and a terrific lesson......and it is a story meant to be shared.
My husband and I have known for some time that a local wild bunny likes to give birth to her babies under our hot tub deck. We assume it is both safe and warm, so an ideal location for raising a family. Next to the hot tub deck, there is a second deck attached to the house and raised up a few feet, with deep window wells next to the wall of the house nearly as tall as me. From time to time, at the end of winter, we have found the remains of some poor bunny at the bottom of the window well, apparently having fallen in—trapped without an escape.
I was headed down to our basement this weekend to clean the windows because we have put our house on the market. (No I don't usually clean those windows because I would rather be writing to you, and yes, look out—we might be moving into your neighborhood.) As I scanned the first window and sized up the grubby job ahead of me, I saw a sweet little baby bunny inside the window well. (Yep, I did the whole thing. "Oh, honey come look there is a sweet little baby bunny here. It's so cuuuuuute." You know how some of us women are around babies of any kind! I'm one of them.)
Now we had to figure out how to get the poor scared baby out of the window well and on to the ground several feet above him and a foot or so above my arms. You might think that would be easy, but bunnies can be fast when they are frightened. When I crawled into the window well with it, the little thing freaked out—running and jumping to get away from me. I probably could have netted it and quickly dumped it out on to the ground. It was a valid solution, but not my style. I could see too clearly the scared little ball of fur in the corner with its heart pounding nearly out of its skin. I had to find a gentler way.
The animals in the area come to me for healing songs, so why not sing to comfort it, I decided. I knelt down and began humming a lullaby-like song to the baby, slowly inching my way toward it as I sang. It's heart-beat slowed down and eventually I was able to put one of my hands on its side, then the other, and finally, gently lifted it in my hands up to ground above us and set it down—singing all the while.
From the baby bunny, I learned an important lesson about patience in my endeavors to manifest. This little one needed me to slow down, remain in my compassion, and stay focused enough for it to overcome its fears so that together we could lift it up to its freedom. How often do I do the same for myself I wondered? How often do I get anxious and needy, and rush the process along—unsatisfactorily? How often am I too frightened to receive help? So what do bunnies have to do with manifestation? A great deal, it seems, and not just when it comes to procreation.
Friday, May 09, 2008
Many years ago, my mother left this earth after a long struggle with cancer. In truth, it was a relief to know she was no longer in pain. She deserved her freedom.
We were not very close while she was alive. Oh, we loved each other. We just never had that special appreciation of each other some daughters and mothers seem to have with each other. Her choices didn't make much sense to me, and, it seemed, my choices didn't make sense to her.
About a year after she crossed over, I truly felt the loss of her. Initially, I felt so much relief that I didn't feel the full impact of loosing her. It was on the anniversary of her death that I truly felt the loss of her goodness here. It was amazing to me that as a grown woman, I could still long to be held by my mother, the way she used to hold me as a little girl. But I did and she wasn't there to do it.
Nature became a place in which to console myself as I took long walks reflecting on the nature of what it means to be mother and daughter. It was then, as I cried, and the rain fell, I could feel the empathy of Mother Earth. As I laid in the grass, I felt the Mother's tiny green fingers tickling me. When I stood, looking up into the trees, I felt the warm wind caress my face.
There she was. My Mother. Her body might be different and her means of affection her own, yet I found comfort in Mother Earth. Her touch was as dear to me as my human mother's touch so many years ago.
I have since come to understand we sometimes seek affection in ways that can't be delivered. My human mother could not reach out and hug me physically any more. To yearn for that placed a limit on what comfort I could receive. But Mother Earth could give me the comfort I longed for. And since then, to my delight, my human mother has come to me in many dreams, and we now appreciate each other in ways neither of us experienced here on earth.
The sacred nature of Mother is part of my daily life now. I hear her in the laughter of my daughter as she talks about the antics of her children. I see her in the smiles of my granddaughters who dream of being mothers one day. I recognize her in any woman who genuinely cares about another. I see her strong and beautiful in the body of Mother Earth. And I know her sacred touch through the soft petals of flowers, the bark of her trees, the shade of her leafy limbs—and all the sentient nature of this planet—our Mother.
To read a lovely prayer to Mother Earth spoken by Jesus at the Sermon on the Mount, go here now: http://newdreamfoundation.com/forums/index.php/topic,99.msg109.html#msg109