squirrelling? you could do worse.
As I headed down the path into the woods for some quiet contemplation, I came upon a sentinel: Red Squirrel, perched atop a woodpile. The one I saw was quite a good size as these wee four-leggeds go, and she was hunkered down on her belly, almost as though she was taking a rest. She let me come within less than 15 feet before she began to get twitchy and hoppy. I thought about giving her a very wide berth indeed, but she sprung down from her place of rest, and I walked on by.
I set myself up in the woods in the middle of a four-trunked cedar tree. Years ago, someone had cut away the central fifth trunk to install a hunting platform above. The stump makes a perfect place to sit and get still. That’s exactly what I proceeded to do—breathing into silence, breathing into the presence of the cedar.
That’s when the forest got noisy again, rife with scurryings and squeakings. Tiny bits of cedar bark sprinkled my head, and I looked up. Above me, on the trunk against which I leaned, another red squirrel stared me down. Nose going, beady eyes alight, he suspended himself upside down, spun right side up, and dashed off making the sort of indignant soprano grunt-squeaks and trills that only a red squirrel can.
With a smile, I resumed my meditation on what it means to respect our own energy stores and those of the earth for a course I am writing. The course, aptly, is called The Sacred Storehouse. No little part of my considerations involved Squirrel and what she can teach us in this regard.
I made some notes about what it could mean to become what the Celts called an sidhe—at one with my surroundings. I was thinking about what it might be to explore the depths of Self and Self’s relationship with the Earth, and what it might be to learn and undertake the sacred care of the Earth. The woods got quiet.
As you might imagine, I was there a while and did not remotely scratch the surface of this infinite subject, (perhaps THE Infinite Subject). The tiny hollow of my mind soon became full and silent in awe. Accepting my limits, I slid off the cedar stump and went to wash my face in the cold waking water of our stream—more red squirrel trills.
As I climbed out of the woods, I spied yet another guardian of wonders. Red Squirrel stood tall on her hind legs on the height of a different wood pile, marking my leave of the forest just as she had my entry.
At a certain point, even I can take a hint. It wasn’t long before I sat down with my rattle and journeyed to the spirit of Red Squirrel to have her clarify what she was offering me today. Predictably, I got an earful.
Recall, I am working through teachings on the honouring of Self and the honouring and care of the Earth. Red Squirrel informed me that as a student of such mysteries, I had better learn to start with myself.
“We”—the Red Squirrel People, if you will—“understand the importance of storing up enough food and energy to make it through the lean season of winter,” she told me. “Our wisdom is to do this long before winter arrives. While the Earth presents the resources to you.”
Hmm... foresight and planning. This led me to think about what my ‘lean seasons’ are, and how I get myself into places where I am run down energetically.
“Precisely,” continued Red Squirrel. “Don’t wait until you are depleted, until Winter descends, and the snows make it difficult or impossible to find what you need.” Mmm-hmm. “Instead, keep a constant flow of energy and resources stored for yourself.”
Right. Have you ever found yourself so tired or stressed that you lack the motivation to replenish, or maybe even start to get confused about where to begin? I recall a time just a few daze ago when I felt too tired to go for a walk in the woods.
And the logic continues: “You cannot share with others or take care of them and the Earth unless you have enough to sustain yourself.” Roger that. Have you ever had a day where the very thought of answering a phone call was repellant?
Further, “Squirrels have territory. We have boundaries, and we defend them to keep ourselves safe.” Well. Who could have known? Have you recently skipped speaking up about your needs or suppressed them completely so as not to cause a fuss? I believe I have had over 50 years of practice at that one.
Red Squirrel wasn’t done with me yet. She pointed out, “The Squirrel’s Way is respectful of the Earth and the bounty it offers. The Earth places resources abundantly where we can find them. We squirrels keep our eyes and senses peeled for the gifts and use them all—nothing is wasted. The gifts are respected because they are used for their intended purpose.”
Can Red Squirrel get a witness? Recently I discovered that even when squirrels forget where they store some of their seeds, the forgotten stash can lead to new growth at the other end of Winter. The stash that restores itself, to the benefit of the entire forest. We humans could probably learn something from that… not so sure discarded electronics and plastics give back in quite the same way. I may start asking myself whether I really need that next clever little mass-produced do-hickey, and how many times I am likely to use it before I add to my already voluminous collection.
I thanked Squirrel for her wisdom, and she trilled me back into Ordinary Reality with a bit of a fire (about the colour of her brilliant coat) lit under my bum.
Squirrel’s Way. Huh. Years ago, in the small community where I grew up, if they called someone “a squirrel,” it was a derogatory comment. And “going squirrelly” meant freaking out over something. But me, I’m seriously thinking about going squirrelly in a whole new light.
