by Lynne D. Finney.
published in Chicken Soup to Inspire the Body & Soul, 2003
Lady Godiva sashayed up the trail in front of me, sun shimmering on her white fur coat. Her hips swayed and tail wagged as she sniffed scents of hikers, dogs, and moose that had walked this path before us. I had rescued this slinky Samoyed from the Humane Society and was going to change her name until I learned Lady Godiva had been a heroine who made her nude ride to save her village from oppressive taxation. My Lady Godiva was also a heroine. She had rescued me from life as a couch potato by demanding two vigorous walks a day. Her curiosity and zest for life were contagious, propelling me away from my computer and into the Wasatch mountains.
Turning Back, Yet... The Spicy Scent Of Pines And Pinions Was Intoxicating.
On this spring day, we had hiked for more than an hour, about a third of the way up a steep mountain. I needed to get back to work and didn't feel like struggling any higher.
Turning back, I called Lady. Usually eager to start back because she got a treat, this time she sat down and stared at me. I understood her reluctance. The air was crisp and clear, the sky too blue to be real, and aspen leaves had begun to uncurl into tiny circles of chartreuse. The spicy scent of pines and pinions was intoxicating.
I called again and Lady came back slowly for her Milkbone, tail between her legs. We walked about twenty feet down the trail when the bumblebee from hell appeared.
This bee was the size of a child's fist. I'd never seen a bee so large. It circled a few feet from my body, buzzing like a cake mixer. I froze. Although startled, I wasn't afraid. I knew the bee wouldn't sting me unless I threatened it. Lady and other animals taught me that all creatures are intelligent and respond to our thoughts. If we send kind thoughts, animals won't hurt us. Native Americans know this - and avoid rattlesnake bites by greeting snakes as brothers, not with hate and fear.
Standing motionless, I sent the bee a mental greeting. The bee continued to circle me.
After a few minutes, I tried taking a step forward. The buzzing was louder as the bee circled closer. I stepped back. The circles widened. What was going on?
Another step back. The circles grew even wider. Turning, I walked a few feet up the trail. The bee disappeared.
Waiting a few minutes to be sure the bee had gone, I started walking slowly down the trail. The bee reappeared out of nowhere, buzzing a foot from my face.
This Was Certainly A Sign. But To Do What?
The universe sends us signs, not with loud voices or burning bushes, but in more ordinary ways, sometimes through animals. Native Americans revere animals as sacred messengers. This was certainly a sign. But to do what?
I experimented, taking a few steps back up the trail. The bee abruptly vanished. Okay. I'm obviously supposed to go up the mountain. But why?
I looked around for the bee. Nothing.
Lady bounded up the trail, barking for me to follow. I obeyed. What was I supposed to do? Was climbing this mountain some kind of test? There had to be a purpose. Was there someone I was supposed to help, some challenge to be overcome, a lesson to be learned? Familiar anxiety churned my stomach. What if I couldn't do it? What if I wasn't good enough? What if the bee didn't mean anything and I was just crazy?
I pushed through the fear by pumping my legs up the trail. Just keep going. Keep going. The path grew steeper and I had to stop to catch my breath. Although I'd been walking for almost two hours, the peak still seemed far away. I was afraid it would be dark before I could hike all the way up and then back down.
I had to get up the mountain. I had to find out what I was supposed to do
Lady ran back toward me, startling me out of my worries with a couple of sharp barks. I looked up from the dirt trail. Bluebells waved at the edge of the precipice which dropped down to a valley of aspens, their new leaves dancing in the sunlight. A stream overflowing with melted snow gushed through valley.
But I didn't have time to stand and look. I had to get up the mountain. I had to find out what I was supposed to do.
The path narrowed, spiraling up between stands of pines punctuated by snow patches. Lady ate snow, but I wasn't thirsty and pushed on. I had to find out why I'd been led up the mountain.
Thoughts of a mission kept me ascending for another hour, even though the path climbed steadily. Without warning, we emerged from the forest darkness into a clearing filled with sunshine. We had reached the summit.
A panorama of mountains, hills, and valleys in shades of green, yellow and brown melded into a Monet painting. Above, a hawk screeched, sun illuminating its red tail as it soared in lazy circles. Lady leaned quietly against my leg, letting me soak it all in.
Filled with unfamiliar peace and gratitude, I was afraid to move, afraid it would all disappear, afraid it was too good to be true. Then I remembered. I hadn't completed my mission. Worry chased away peace. What was I sent here to do?
A soft thought floated into my mind, the still small voice I'd come to recognize, always gentle and kind, never critical: "Nothing."
"What do you mean, 'nothing'?" The words burst from my throat.
Silence.
What does "nothing" mean, I demanded mentally. There must be a purpose to this.
A thought filled my head like the gentle glow of moonlight: "Enjoy. Be. Just BE."
My body relaxed as tears filled my eyes. I didn't have to do anything. I didn't have to save the world. I didn't have to be perfect. I didn't have to prove I was "good." I didn't have to try. I just had to enjoy life, to drink in the beauty around me. I only had to be.
Laughter erupted from deep inside, releasing all fear. I got the bee's message.
As I laughed, Lady barked with delight. We danced together on the summit as the sun blazed from gold to red.
When we started back, I was awake, fully aware of the miracles around me. I was aware of the rose and lavender sunset reflected in snow mounds encircling pine groves. My nose prickled with the pungent smell of sage bushes. Spring had come late with a medley of wildflowers bursting out all at once. Clumps of white and purple columbine, golden marsh daisies, and tiny pink star flowers created a giant patchwork quilt. A symphony of songbirds mixed with the hum of insects flooded my ears, punctuated by chattering squirrels.
There was so much beauty that I forgot the time, forgot to worry about being tired, forgot even to think. I melded into the beauty. If I missed something especially lovely, Lady would point it out by barking. We stopped to watch a beetle lurch across the trail and a robin fly to her nest with a worm.
We reached the paved road just as the indigo deepened to black. Lady led me home.
Copyright Lynne D. Finney 2002, 2003
Listen to Lynne Finney on Beyond the Ordinary KRSE Archived Radio Programs
www.lynnefinney.com
