The Elusive Dunnart

Since our beautiful dog, Ava, died in September last year, wildlife has returned to our garden. The birds linger longer. The king skinks and blue tongues slither about with more courage. The possums seem more active at night. And, unfortunately, we have had more mice and rats. There is one little critter, however, that avoids a positive identification. This little fella only appears as the light is fading and skips along the fence and branches in our front courtyard. He is fast. He is small. He could be a small rat or a rather fat mouse. But we suspect he is a dunnart. For those not familiar, a dunnart is an Australian, nocturnal, carnivorous marsupial. It looks rather mouse-like - especially when it hops briskly past the window at dusk. It has become somewhat of a family challenge to get more than a brief glimpse of this critter to positively identify its species. 

A few days ago, I had my best sighting yet. It was a rare evening where I was the only one home. There was none of the usual background noise associated with family time and getting a meal prepared. I sat in the lounge chair closest to the front courtyard. It was quiet. It was still. The elusive dunnart appeared and, unusually, lingered a while. It sat on the fence - waiting. I sat still trying to focus on the sillhouette. Definitely a dunnart - - I think! I was reluctant to move closer, knowing I would startle it and send it hopping. It was but a moment. A moment of stillness and clarity and wonder.

This experience reminded me of my desire to live a contemplative life. I know, from experience, that when I am able to be silent and still I am more likely to see the Divine with more clarity. There is still mystery and the unknown, but for a moment we meet. It is not something that can be captured or repeated, but it beckons us to return and be still again. It is very easy to become caught up in the busyness of life and completely miss the "dunnart" living amongst us. It is when we intentionally find the space to be still and wait that we may be surprised by the presence already in our midst.

Flying Low

It has been a while since my last post. The last few week's have been rather full with one thing and another; a wedding yesterday, dance lessons for my daughter, being 'apprentice' gardener for my husband and preparing for the first residential of Dayspring's Grad Dip in Spiritual Direction which commences tomorrow. In amongst all this, the thing that has stilled me is revisiting many of Mary Oliver's poems.

Mary Oliver died on the 17th of January at the age of 84. Her poetry has travelled with me over the last 10 years. She has a way of describing her connection with nature, her own journey and relationship with the divine that is so simple, yet has such depth. Her poetry is full of wonder and awe at the surrounding world, but does not shy away from acknowledging the pain and suffering that is also part of life.

A few of my favourites are 'Sleeping in the Forest', 'The Journey' and 'Why I wake early', but considering that today is a breathing day, a day in between two full days, I want to share the poem 'Today' with you.

Today

Today I'm flying low and I'm
not saying a word.
I'm letting all of the voodoos of ambition 
sleep.

The world goes on as it must,
the bees in the garden rumbling a little,
the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten.
And so forth.

But I'm taking the day off.
Quiet as a feather.
I hardly move though really I'm travelling
a terrific distance.

Stillness. One of the doors
into the temple.

Mary Oliver

Need an excuse to be still?

I just sat for twenty minutes in silence and stillness in my garden and the time passed quickly and I don't feel guilty. Can't find the time to meditate? Feel guilty if you spend a few moments for yourself? Is your mind always thinking about the next thing that needs doing? Well, I may have a solution for you - for this week at least.

This week is the Aussie Backyard Bird Count and I thought I would get involved. There's an app for it that you can download for free. It times you for twenty minutes, while you sit in your garden and watch for birds. You record the birds that you see on the app. It even helps you identify them, if you are not a bird expert (I was very grateful for this). It is super easy to use and you are doing your little bit for science.

I don't find it hard to meditate or sit still for a period of time, but I know others do. This was such a simple, meditative act, but I can see for a more task-oriented person, it would be one way to slow down and feel like there was a purpose to it. As I sat, I became very aware of every flit and flutter around me. I noticed how quickly birds move, how many fly overhead and how noisy they can be. My eyes were opened, not only to the activity of the birds, but to my own presence in the garden. 

When the timer stopped and I was prompted to submit my results, I was surprised how the twenty minutes had passed so quickly. The dishwasher was still waiting to be unpacked, the emails were still there to be answered, the to-do list hadn't gone anywhere and life continued. I wonder if I do this every day this week, if it could become a habit? We shouldn't need the excuse of an app or a project in which to contribute to see the benefit of the quiet, still moments. Sometimes, however, we need to experience something before we are convinced.

I hope that some of you Aussie readers might find twenty minutes to sit in your garden this week and perhaps it could become a regular thing.

Meditation - Bringing the Mind Home

Meditation has become an important part of my life over the last two years. I enjoy different styles of meditation - from contemplative, to guided, to using music - but the more I meditate the less clutter I am wanting attached. I am becoming more comfortable in the silence and more able to still my busy mind. At our meditation groups I often read something of Thomas Merton or some other great Christian writer on the topic of contemplative prayer or meditation. This week I decided to use something different.

I read a piece from the classic, 'The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying'. The author, Sogyal Rinpoche, says, "In the stillness and silence of meditation, we glimpse and return to that deep inner nature that we have long ago lost sight of amid the busyness and distraction of our minds. Isn't it extraordinary that our minds cannot stay still longer than a few moments without grasping after distraction". He goes on to say that, "We are fragmented into so many different aspects. We don't know who we really are, or what aspects of ourselves we should identify with or believe in. So many contradictory voices, dictates, and feelings fight for control over our inner lives that we find ourselves scattered everywhere, in all directions, leaving nobody at home. Meditation, then, is bringing the mind home."

Now that certainly rings true for me! When I have taken the time to be still, silent and meditate I find I am more peaceful, more in touch with myself and with God and less likely to react impulsively. We take the time to sort through our emails, file our papers and even defragment our computer. How much more important, then, should it be to take time to allow our inner lives to regroup and 'find' ourselves again? For me, meditation is a time to spend solely in the presence of God and no one else. It's just me and God - being, not doing.