As I opened a window in my cabin this morning, I startled a doe sleeping close by. She was chewing and dozing in the dappled sunlight, and I never noticed her until she stood and turned her attention toward my sounds. She looked directly at me and her eyes held mine for several moments. I whistled soft and low, my personal voice to the animals that spend time here in my woods. She settled then, and so did I.
Later, in my reclining chair, I put my feet up and gazed out at her. I am fortunate to be so physically close to these friends. The back wall of my cabin is mostly windows, looking out to the woods and beyond. I could not see her fawn, but she is close. Mother and child, there is no separation.
She taught me to be aware of my surroundings, alert but quiet. Paying attention to what needs doing, and leaving the rest alone. Our personal goals do count, mostly because they cause us to go through a process, and it’s the process that ensures us of the outcome. We find strength within the silence of ourselves, go there and see.
Sunlight faded like a benediction as I closed the door to my cabin toward evening, and I walked home spiritually renewed.