We have had three consecutive nights of cooler temperatures here in the valley. This morning, finally, I am seeing hints of red and gold in the trees framing the squares of farmers’ fields. Clusters of honking Canada geese are turning south and beginning their annual voyage to warmer climates. There seems to be a lack of urgency, as they stop to snack in our newly planted field of winter wheat, disturbing our dogs as they keep watch over their land.
Today I am basking in the ruminations of the stage play I saw yesterday afternoon. I had forgotten how live theatre can transport me out of my body, silence my thoughts, and carry me into a suspended state of immersion. The boundary lines between real and fantasy blurred to non-existent. The horrors of human nature, desperate to survive, were displayed before the audience with grace so that only afterwards did we realize the truth of humanity.
When I paused in my rapture to ponder the dialogue, I was challenged with questions about faith, hope, and trust. I found myself examining whether facts and truth are more compelling than a story of an existential experience. I felt the pain being eased by the creation of an alternate version, unconsciously created to manage unimaginable trauma.
Ultimately, the fantastical triumphed, winning over the most rigid and least trusting character. I exited the theatre energized and elated. The two-and-a-half-hour mystical journey had renewed my creative juices, softened my heart, and revived my fledgling spiritual tenacity.
Like the shipwrecked character in the play, I lean into the animal kingdom to find connection. Whether I encounter a turtle, fox or giant silverback gorilla, I search their face – looking into their eyes, finding the link to their soul. I feel the muscles of my heart stretch toward them. The hard shell, thick red fur, or yellowed incisors are not barriers for me. I have, what many protest, is an unhealthy lack of fear.
Hiking up the steep and densely forested slopes of the mountains in Uganda, my heart was pounding. Not from the exertion, but with excitement at the prospect of interacting with a primate family. The scratches, scrapes, and mud we endured as we ascended were inconsequential when I made contact with the infinity pool of brown eyes below the sharp forehead of the family matriarch.
She sat at full attention, watching her young ones swing dangerously high in the trees, tussle with each other, and clamour over her and stop to suckle, always aware of us, still and at a respectful distance. The head of the family, a cape of thick foliage framing his massive body, watching for threats to his dominance. The safety of his offspring was the mother’s responsibility.
Returning to the camp later that day, I felt awe and elation. I was filled with a sense of expansiveness and inclusion – the boundaries between countries and cultures and animals and humans irrelevant.