While many who have attended summer programs at Clear Sky can attest to their considerable rewards, I once had the chance to spend a substantial period of time at the centre during its “off-season.” In the winter of 06/07 there were generally only three or four of us in residence, and on a number of occasions the peerless feline Sultan and I were entirely on our own. My memories of this delightful solitude include weeks of study and meditation, long walks, and the simple pleasures of splitting wood and stargazing. As spring progressed, a lone Engelman spruce – visible from the house in a spacious clearing on Bull Mountain’s lower southwestern slope – became an agreeable part of my daily itinerary. I discovered a superb natural meditation seat near the tree and there I spent many happy hours, body tingling from the hike, mind borne aloft by the spectacular view. However, the most memorable recollection I have of Clear Sky are those involving wildlife.
When there are few people around, our non-human neighbours become bolder. Seeing groups of deer or elk just yards away out the living room window is commonplace. Now and then skunks, badgers and even the occasional adventurous bear cub are observed, sniffing around the house. I never saw a wolf, but sometimes I heard them – a primal, dead-of-night presence pervading the moonlit forest. If you’re meditating, ignoring that sound isn’t an option. Like a Burmese monsoon downpour on a metal roof, the wolf pack’s howling becomes your meditation object.
One experience particularly stands out for me. On a Saturday morning in early June, I was walking alone along one of the paths near the property’s Northwest boundary. A large mound of soil there – piled up the previous yer in the course of some project – had become over grown with thistles, and I’d set out to pull them. As I was strolling through the forest, three deer abruptly bolted down the path away from me, about forty yards ahead. I assumed that my approach had triggered their flight.
Then one of them – the last in the group – screamed and fell to the ground. I thought it must have stepped into a gopher hole or been caught in a tangle of discarded wire, and I hurried to see if I could help. When I was only fifty feet or so from the struggling animal I became aware that its body seemed strangely misshapen. Suddenly I realized that there was a cougar holding it down! Stunned, I just stood and watched as the cat strangled its prey, teeth clamped around the deer’s windpipe.
I felt no fear, only awe. In our tradition we cultivate metta, the mind of lovingkindness, toward all beings, and the power of that benevolent energy and the confidence it inspires can be quite remarkable. IN the East, the development of strong metta is widely understood to confer immunity from the perils of the jungle, and there are countless anecdotes of forest monks living in harmony with tigers and other wild creatures.
I’d been in retreat for months and was in a very calm and positive state. It occurred to me, however, that should my metta wobble just a little bit I might be in danger. Momentarily I turned away and looked around for a stick and, as I found one, the cougar became aware of me. It looked up and our eyes met, and held. A wildlife expert might not recommend this kind of challenging behavior, but it felt right – anyway, it worked.
After a brief pause, the cougar let go of the deer, turned, and ran in the opposite direction. Keeping a close watch in case it should return, I cautiously approached the deer. It was still breathing, though unconscious. There were no obvious wounds or any bleeding, just the cougar’s saliva around its neck. I knelt down beside it, repeating the mantra of compassion – OM MANI PADME HUM – and gently stoking its side. Gradually it began to move and blink its eyes, regaining consciousness within a couple of minutes.
Then it looked at me, startled, scrambled upright, and dashed off into the bush, apparently unscathed. I sat in stillness for a while, feeling my heartbeats, breathing and listening, then stood up. I decided to postpone the weeding. As I turned back toward the house I began to recite the ancient Pali formula for sharing merit*, drunk with the unexpected blessing of the empowerment of Vajara Mountain Lion.**
*Merit is the poitive energy created every time the mind inclines toward the wholesome and sharing merit is a practice common to all Buddist schools. At the end of every meditation session the merit generated is traditionally shared with all beings.
**In Vajrayana Buddhism an empowerment (Tibetan: Wangkur) is the ritual initiation into a particular meditation practice (sadhana). The teacher enters into amd ambodies the vibration of the archtype, bestowing upon the student a direct mind-to-mind transmission and planting a seed that will bear spiritual fruit when nurtured by diligent practice.
A few days ago, I watched a video from Earthfire Institute of a woman doing a healing on a wolf, Apricot, who was suffering from inflammation of the spinal cord. The video is deeply moving. You can view it here.
Watching the video got me to thinking about a wild creature I had the honor of assisting many years ago, a seagull that I now call Sydney.
In the Water
It was a hot summer day in Chicago. I had been struggling with a piece of writing for several hours and needed to give my brain a rest, and so I headed out for a walk to the lake, a few miles away.
Sitting on the rocks, I looked out over my gorgeous lake. The water was clear and calm, gently lapping against the shore. The sky was pale blue and dotted with those fluffy white summer clouds that fill your heart with the ache of a peaceful summer afternoon.
After a few minutes of this luscious peace, I noticed something moving on the water, making small circles just to the left of my line of sight. I remember briefly thinking that it must be a duck. But a moment later, I snapped out of my trance, remembering that ducks don’t swim on Lake Michigan.
I turned to look more closely and saw a seagull, not an uncommon sight near the shore; one end of the beach a half-mile away was always filled with them. But this creature was alone. And he was swimming in an endless, tight circle. Looking more closely, I saw that his left wing was dragging behind him, skimming the surface of the water.
I couldn’t bear the thought of what was bound to happen to this creature: succumbing to exhaustion, dying alone. My heart ached for him.
I had only been practicing Reiki for about a year, but already it was a powerful force in my life. I thought, “When in doubt, try Reiki.” And so I stood up, drew the three primary Reiki symbols in the space in front of me, looked at the struggling seagull, and invited him to follow me to the beach, where he could come to shore amid others of his kind.
He turned to face me, treading water, and then began to swim parallel to the rocky shore, following me as I led the way. He couldn’t swim as quickly as I could walk, so from time to time, I would stop in a shady spot, it was so very hot that day, and wait for him to catch up. When he pulled up even to me, he would stop, turn and face me, waiting. I drew the Reiki symbols anew and once again set off towards the beach.
We were about a third of the way to our destination, when he came upon a pier of sorts, blocking his path. It was only about 15 feet long, made of rock and concrete and wood, protruding maybe three feet above the water. I’d seen it hundreds of times before, but never really noticed it. Now I wondered how it had come to be there, what its purpose was.
My seagull (my heart had already claimed him), swam right up to this blockade. I held my breath as he tried to flap his wings and jump onto it, but he only had one useful wing, and so his effort to gain dry land couldn’t work, and he fell back into the water.
He looked as though he was going to try again, but I was so fearful for his safety that I asked him to please go around the pier. I said the words silently. “Please, go around. Swim around. It’s not that far.”
He hesitated for a moment, treading water, still looking at the pile of rock and concrete and wood, but then did as I asked. He swam the 15 feet to the end of the pier, swam around it, and then returned to his spot parallel to the shore. Treading water, he looked at me. I refreshed the Reiki symbols and we set off once again.
On the Beach
Our journey of half a mile took us close to an hour to complete.
As we approached the edge of the beach, thick with seagulls, my friend, my teacher, swam around another, smaller pier, this time needing no instruction. He did not return to his place by my side but, seeing the flock, positioned himself to join them. When he walked up on the beach, I instinctively moved towards him, but he flapped his one wing in warning (the other wing dragged uselessly in the sand) and ran backwards, away from me.
I understood that it was time for me to leave.
A lifeguard was walking the beach not far from us. I stopped him, told him our story, asked if he knew of a wildlife refuge in the city, someone who could help my seagull. He looked at me as though he couldn’t quite comprehend what I was saying. “He followed you all the way from there?” he said, pointing to the place, so far away now, where our journey had begun.
“Yes,” I said, not yet realizing how sacred this journey had been, how utterly amazing.
He instructed me to go to the boathouse at the other end of the beach and look for the lifeguard supervisor. He said the supervisor would be able to help me. Then he said, “I get off in a little while. I’ll make sure he takes care of this.”
“Do you promise?” I said.
He said that he did.
I walked to the end of the beach. I looked, but couldn’t find the supervisor or anyone who could tell me where he might be. But I trusted the young man to keep his word, and so I went home with a peaceful heart, believing I had done all that I could do.
Back Home
That night, I finally returned to my desk, to the writing I had needed a break from that afternoon. After an hour or so, at about 10 pm, I felt a presence in the room. At first, I wasn’t sure what it was, but I quickly realized it was my seagull. He insisted I leave my desk and tend to him.
I sat on the couch in the living room, lit a candle, and took him (not literally, of course) into my lap. I drew the Reiki symbols in the space in front of me, said a prayer for healing, and held his body, the idea of his body, in my hands. About twenty minutes later, he was gone. I wished him well and returned to my desk.
The next night, again at about 10 pm, I felt my seagull’s presence, urging me to leave my desk and tend to him. I again sat on the couch with his beautiful self in my lap and shared a Reiki healing with him.
The following night, at the same time, my beautiful friend called me away from my desk once again and directed me to assist him. But this time was different. At the end of this third session, just before he vanished, he stood tall on my lap, fully extended his wings, and slowly flapped them with tremendous power and grace.
I did not know, and probably will never know, if Sydney’s wing had mended, whether he was alive or had left this earth. I did not know if he had been accepted by the flock or had been pecked to death, if he had managed to feed himself or had died of starvation. I did not know if he had been rescued and cared for by humans, if he had been returned to the wild.
All I knew, and the knowledge broke over me in a warm wave, was that Sydney had been healed.
Thank you for teaching me the meaning of healing, dear Sydney, for your courage and persistence, your wisdom and grace. Blessings to you, my friend.
Ray of Light is my boy kittie family member. He found me one day 5 years ago when I went to donate towels etc, to the shelter at the MSPCA. I had been there many a times and I also would visit the animals and then leave. This time however I visited the kitty room and the moment I walked in Ray or Light’s eyes looked at me and I looked at him and that was it. He lengthened his long young body like an improvisational dancer and said, “Where have you been? ” It was truly a match made in heaven. He has been such an amazing teacher and family member.
A few days ago he and I went outside. We mostly go out together and he explores the yard. We hang out together as well as do our own thing depending on the day. We had been outside for about 20 minutes
when I picked him up and walked to the door to go back inside. I felt that he wanted to stay out a bit longer so and I figured I would make a phone call and then we would go in.
He was right near me during the phone call, yet when I finished the call, I did not see him anywhere. I began to look high and low. He was not in any of his usual places and after awhile I began to get a bit anxious. I looked all around once again with no luck.
I then went and sat in my car in the drive way and got myself grounded and let go of the fear. (I can easily let my fear get in the way, at least in the beginning of something) Not this time though, as I knew that I could indeed communicate with Ray of Light and he with me.
I telepathically let Ray of Light know that I was feeling some what aggravated that did not come to me when I called his name. I told him that my feeling of aggravation would not out weight my feelings of sadness if he were not to come home.
I asked him to find me and to meow so I could find him if need be.
And seconds later, there he was walking from behind he house meowing loudly.
I was ecstatic. He not only heard me, yet took the time to let his voice be heard and to find me. He also let me know that he had wanted to hang out with me and not me on the telephone. I got it!
A beautiful poem narrated by the peerless Norman Bailey, about listening to things that cannot be heard through our ears but through our hearts. The animals, without thinking they are always listening and we are linked by the great listening to the larger knowledge circling this earth.
I was living in the High Sierras (Mammoth Lakes) back in the mid 80s. During a drive home, there was a herd of deer in the road. Waiting until they passed, one of the last deer’s hoof got caught in the fence on the side of road. We helped untangled, and it bounced away.
About 5 years later, I was camping high up in the Sierras and a deer walked into my campground. There were about 8 people standing around watching this visit, and the deer came up just to me — kissed my hand — then turned around and left.
Then a few years after this incident, I was working for the Forest Service in the Lake Tahoe area, out in the middle of nowhere. A second deer came up to me, and kissed me again!!
Such a gentle thank you . . . You are very welcome!
For those of you who have seen the Apricot Energy Healing video the following speaks for itself. Apricot reached across species and across generations. . .
“My 2 1/2 year old daughter Lily has fallen in love with Apricot. We came across a youtube clip of your beautiful wolf on facebook. I was watching the clip and Lily climbed into my lap and watched in silence. From then on she was hooked. She thinks that Apricot is looking at her. She watches the video over and over. She watches your other ones also, but she loves the one she calls,” Fixen Apicot” (she can’t sat her R yet) She has given up Dora the Explorer in the morning for your Apricot. She just watches and then comes up with her own stories.”
“Often when she is playing, she plays with Apricot. Sometimes she calls her name but other times she just smacks her lips like shes calling a dog, and pats her leg “lets go honey”, she says. My little Lily has found a very dear connection to Apricot. One I hope will keep her close to the wonders of this earth as she grows. Thank you so much for sharing what you do. Through people and animals and the work you do maybe more people will stand up and take notice. I believe your connection with animals and the earth are the only way we can wake up and heal this planet. I hope that one day My Lily can meet Your Apricot.”
“Lily wants Apricot to have a picture of her also. She is a funy little kid. Lily is a very special soul, she came to us when we didn’t think it was possible. This is the one she picked out.”
After we posted this blog Lily’s mom responded:
“Thank you for letting us be apart, even in a little way, with what you do. We love the blog. Lily went crazy when she saw her picture next to Apricot. First words out of her mouth was …”show it to grandma.” We even had to call Daddy at work. Then we had to watch the video three more times. After the third time she got a little teary eyed and said… ” I miss her.” My little girl amazes me with what she says and think sometimes. Maybe just maybe my “Wild Child” and your Apricot have known each other in another time or place.”
There were about 16 of them, cordoned of in quarter-acre lots in the surrounding Colorado mountains. Most were in pairs or threesomes; Ghost was alone in his enclosure due to his feeding time aggression. They were victims of abuse; humanistic-whimsical desires who slowly turned burdensome because of an innate intellectual, curiosity which made them unfit for a household. Kira’s formerly broken jaw was forever disfigured; a “gift” from her owner who decided a swing of a bat would serve as the best means to deliver his purpose. They all had their…..stories, just as we have our own. Over the course of 8 months, I began to “touch” those that would let me in. Had I had more time, I am sure all would have revealed their secrets.
They were mostly Grays and Arctics, but some were hybrids. The W.O.L.F. Project in Colorado was a poorly funded, well-intentioned sanctuary. I was studying at Fort Collins at the time as an under-graduate while volunteering at the Veterinary Teaching Hospital. I wanted to volunteer with a group oriented with wolves. I found W.O.L.F. and did my best to volunteer my Saturday or Sunday weekend hours feeding, caring for, or doing whatever needed attending to. I always knew the unspoken connection was there, but I didn’t know just how deep it ran until this opportunity to feel their tongues against my cheek, smell their natural, wild scent underneath my nose, sense their acute awareness within their eyes and movement, did the being I am discover how close I was to the being underneath that fur and behind those piercing eyes.
I remember once entering an enclosure to spread the chopped chicken throughout. I couldn’t help myself but to sit calmly on a log and began inviting the dominant male to eat from my hand. I don’t remember his name, but he was one of the more insecure males who was situated with one other female. At first he was intimidated by my presence, sensing I lacked fear. In there world, as you well know, this could have been internalized as a possible threat; an attempt on my part to establish my ground or dominance. But, I calmly fed the female as he kept about a 10 foot distance, constantly moving and encircling us both. He soon understood I was not there to claim, but to connect. I lofted a leg in his direction, ensuring not to throw it at him, but near enough for recognition. The chicken soon disappeared. His defenses slowly whithered. Within 10-15 minutes he was eating not by my hand, but pieces had been placed by my leg. A connection was born.
There are other stories, but none so vivid as this one. For it is the difficult relationships turned amenable that we remember. A change of heart earned through trust and effort.
What you have created is something one day I would like to experience first-hand. I miss that feeling, that connection with them. Your story of Apricot drew tears from deep inside. You awakened sleeping memories; for now I am far, far away from that life which once created that jewel of a memory. I am working hard to establish myself within this world as a figure of power. One of my motivations is to develop the net worth, network, and influence to ensure organizations such as your own not only have a going concern, but will serve as the model for which many can learn and replicate. You are beautiful human beings who one day I will hug and thank in person for the energy you have invested in the lives you protect. As for now, please accept my recognition and deep appreciation as a thank you for caring, listening, and truly hearing those whose voice and communicative means differ from ours.
I have to tell you what my dear neighbors told me a few minutes ago. We live on a bluff, overlooking open area. Yesterday, they had their dogs out in the fenced in part of the hill. As they looked up, a large coyote stopped dead in its tracks.
The neighbors remembered my stories about Earthfire and wished him well. They said that they stood and shared space for almost five minutes. The coyoted looked at them one last time and trotted off. They watched him disappear into the woods.
So, your teachers there helped to stop a panic in the area by the gentleness they shared with me, and I in turn, shared the lessons with the neighbors.
Donna
Penelope Smith hosts an inter-species telepathic communication retreat with the rescued wild animals of Earthfire Institute. Watch this video short to learn more about telepathic communications with the wild ones.
Construction worker Bob Tondo didn’t know what to expect before coming to Earthfire. His visit here changed him into becoming a more compassionate person for wildlife.
“Maybe there is some truth to being able to connect with animals or us as humans being able to connect with animals on their level.”
Named after a passionate earth-mother wolf with a fire in her belly to protect anything vulnerable, Earthfire was founded in 2000 to develop a new model of relating to nature through the voices of the rescued wildlife>
While many who have attended summer programs at Clear Sky can attest to their considerable rewards, I once had the chance to spend a substantial period of time at the centre during its “off-season.” In the winter of 06/07 there were generally only three or four of us in residence, and on a number of occasions the peerless feline Sultan and I were entirely on our own. My memories of this delightful solitude include weeks of study and meditation, long walks, and the simple pleasures of splitting wood and stargazing. As spring progressed, a lone Engelman spruce – visible from the house in a spacious clearing on Bull Mountain’s lower southwestern slope – became an agreeable part of my daily itinerary. I discovered a superb natural meditation seat near the tree and there I spent many happy hours, body tingling from the hike, mind borne aloft by the spectacular view. However, the most memorable recollection I have of Clear Sky are those involving wildlife.
walked in Ray or Light’s eyes looked at me and I looked at him and that was it. He lengthened his long young body like an improvisational dancer and said, “Where have you been? ” It was truly a match made in heaven. He has been such an amazing teacher and family member.
For those of you who have seen the 
“Often when she is playing, she plays with Apricot. Sometimes she calls her name but other times she just smacks her lips like shes calling a dog, and pats her leg “lets go honey”, she says. My little Lily has found a very dear connection to Apricot. One I hope will keep her close to the wonders of this earth as she grows. Thank you so much for sharing what you do. Through people and animals and the work you do maybe more people will stand up and take notice. I believe your connection with animals and the earth are the only way we can wake up and heal this planet. I hope that one day My Lily can meet Your Apricot.”
Have You Ever Made Room in Your Bed for a Bear?
