Squirrel Smarts
Photo Credit: Jan de Vries
“Stories are our primary tools of learning and teaching, the repositories of our lore and legends. They bring order into our confusing world.” ~ Edward Miller
For the month of November I’m sharing stories written from my heart. Today’s blog is my attempt at a modern legend, inspired by my observations of the squirrels who inhabit my back yard. My goal is not to teach or bring order into our confusing world, but to simply be a voice of light and love. I hope you enjoy it, and as always, I look forward to hearing your comments.
“Do you see her?” Grandma asked in a muted whisper, pointing upwards, to the bare branches of an enormous elm tree.
“See who?” I asked, peering as hard as I could into the tangled maze that seemed to stretch forever in all directions. “Where?”
“The squirrel,” Grandma said. “She’s on that grizzly old stump, just over there, to the right a bit.”
Grandma and I each sat on one of two rattan chairs on the wooden deck in her back yard. We did this often; just sitting quietly, watching nature. She tilted my chin and then I saw the squirrel. She had a white and grey face, an orange and white body, and a big, bushy tail. Her eyes were bright, wide open, staring back. I felt certain she saw us. She held something in her tiny little hands that she lifted to her mouth, bits of crumbs flying into the sky as her razor-sharp teeth chewed away at the morsel. I wondered if it was a nut, or maybe one of the fallen crab apples from the adjacent tree.
“I see her now!” I told Grandma. “She’s so clever, and extra pretty, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I agree, she is beautiful,” Grandma said. “And definitely smart. All squirrels are.”
“Oh?” I said, suddenly very curious. “I thought they didn’t know how to think.”
“Well then,” Grandma laughed softly, “I suppose many people assume animals don’t think. After all, they don’t read or go to school, do they?”
“No,” I said. “All they do is run around and play all day.”
I didn’t tell Grandma that sometimes, since I started school, I wished I was born a squirrel and could do the same.
“Yes, it does seem that way,” Grandma said. “But if you observe squirrels long enough, you’ll discover they have a special kind of intelligence, called intuition. It doesn’t require thinking, at least in the way you’re accustomed to. But it does take a great deal of presence.”
“Presents?” I said. “Like at Christmas and birthdays?”
“No, dear child,” Grandma laughed again. “Presence is a different word entirely. It’s a way of perceiving the world that takes a great deal of focus. Keep watching, and you’ll see what I mean, and understand better than I can tell you with words.”
So we just sat there, Grandma and I, looking at the squirrel, who, like I said, seemed to be looking at us too. When she finished eating her meal, she licked her hands. I thought she looked quite pleased with herself, and I wondered if that was what presence meant. Then all of a sudden the squirrel turned and dashed up the tree trunk, higher and higher, to where the branches were so thin and frail, I was surprised they could support her. She scampered so fast, yet somehow with the precision of a tight-rope walker, like in the olden days, when there were circuses.
“See how she balances herself with such graceful agility?” Grandma leaned over and whispered in my ear. “That takes a great deal of concentration, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I do,” I answered. “I don’t think I could do it. I’d fall for sure.”
“Maybe not for sure,” Grandma said. “But it is likely. Because you’d overthink it. Or maybe you wouldn’t think about it all and get distracted by other thoughts dancing around in your head.”
“Thoughts dancing in my head?” I said. Grandma sure came up with some doozies. I thought about thoughts dancing in my head. I imagined words with tiny legs and arms, swirling around in my brain like miniature ballerinas. “Do you mean like sugar plums on the night before Christmas?”
“Yes, dear child, I suppose it is something like that,” Grandma said.
Just then, the squirrel jumped, a big, huge leap into the air, all the way from the tip of a branch to the roof of the garage, then disappeared from sight over the ridge. We sat in silence for a bit. I hoped she would come back, but she didn’t. At least not that day.
“Grandma, is presence another word for focus?” I asked.
“Yes,” Grandma answered.
I thought about that for a while. I gazed up at the gauzy white clouds that were drifting across the sky.
“And no one taught the squirrels how to do it?”
“Nope, they were born that way,” Grandma said.
“How come people aren’t born that way too?” I asked, thinking this seemed unfair.
“Dear child, people are born that way too,” Grandma said with a smile. “It’s just that so many have forgotten.”
“Oh!” I said. “Hooray! Thank you for reminding me!”
Grandma just smiled and reached over to pat my hand, her wrinkles and brown spots looking like a secret map. I jumped out of my chair and hopped into her lumpy lap and hugged her close. We snuggled for a long time, and I thought about the squirrel and I wondered what other things I might have forgotten, but then my tummy rumbled, and I asked if we could go inside and have a snack, and Grandma said yes, and so we did.
COMING UP…
Books & Projects:
· All four of my books are available online at Amazon, Chapters-Indigo, and Barnes & Noble. You can also find them at select Chapters-Indigo and El Hombre de la Mancha bookstores.
· I am pursuing representation from a traditional publisher for my fifth literary fiction, a psychological drama that explores the complexities of mental illness and trauma. Stay in touch by signing up for my blog or following me on social media to find out when it will be published.
Reviews & Interviews:
· You can read, listen, or watch a large selection of reviews and interviews on my website.
Events:
· There are no events currently scheduled in my calendar.
YouTube Channel:
· Watch The Rogue Scorpion trailer.
· Watch The Holding trailer.
· Watch The Healing trailer.