Finding a Place
There was a roadrunner in my driveway as I arrived home yesterday. I took it as a good sign for no other reason than I like roadrunners, and I consider having one visit my home to be a good thing. It’s right up there with the foxes who come at night. And the tiny wren who sleeps in a nook on a cedar pole on my back porch. They’re little things and I’m accommodating them.
Of course, other little things come, too, like raccoons, armadillos, and skunks, but they feel a lot more common and ubiquitous. And I’m not sure I accommodate them as much as endure them while they forage for food. I guess they’re really part of the family, just a part that feels less connected to home, although perhaps that’s unfair to the mama raccoon and her little ones who come to eat cat food when I leave it out.
In the end, it’s good entertainment and I like that connection to the natural world. After all, I’m part of it. And when I accommodate the little things, pay attention to them, help them along, give them space to breathe and live, it feels as though I’m playing a nice role in the bigger game. Although, perhaps it’s just a way of remembering from whence I came and where I’ll end up, encapsulated in the words I first heard as a child, “Remember, man, that thou art dust, and unto dust thou shalt return.” That seems true for every living thing.