I rescued a mouse today. Surprised me that I was able to catch it in a plastic cup from where it was hiding in the bathroom. Felt more like I talked it into the cup, a good suggestion since the other alternative was likely death-by-cat, one of which was lolling nearby.
Out the gate into the forest, out of the cup and under a fern pronto.
Then I read this meditation by Richard Wagamese in Embers, and was struck by the application of its opening sentences to taking the time and effort to catch a mouse in a cup.
I live for miracles in my life these days. Not the earth-changing, light-bringing, soul-powering kind. But the ones that carve out small space of peace where before there was only the jumble of resentment, fear and doubt. The ones that happen from choosing to live the right way.
It is this last sentence that particularly holds my attention. The right way of living includes helping everything live in a good way.
When I'm not making frame drums and giving Journey Oracle card readings, I am an oyster farmer here on Cortes Island. Every day at work there are opportunities for helping something live.
The pinstripe and crescent gunnels spill out of oyster shells where they were hiding, flipping dramatically about the sorting table until scooped up and over the side.
Tiny skeleton shrimp are attached to every rope and plastic surface, waving about in the air reaching for the water that has disappeared;
Sometimes the only good way left is to honour a creature with a good death. This is why I sometimes build drums with the bullet hole positioned visibly in the deerskin.
Richard Wagamese seems to be echoing this honouring of letting go in the remaining sentences of the meditation.
Like coming to understand that forgiveness isn't about gaining a release from others--it's about gaining release from me. If I release my hold on what binds me, I can walk free and unencumbered.
But I have to embrace the resentment, fear and doubt to gain that. I have to own them, hold them again, so that I can learn to let them go. In that letting go is the miracle.
I bet the mouse had no trouble letting go.
I think I'll go learn from the mouse.
