For at least the near future, my posts here will probably be rather sporadic. Family crisis has a tendency to do that sort of thing. However, as I can, I will come here and write whatever comes to mind. Today, I’d like to tell you about a squirrel I met several days ago and the message he brought to me.
Early that morning, I wrote in my journal. My habit is to do one typed page, single-spaced, each day. But, that morning I had a stream of consciousness that pulled me into and down another page. I have often written here, about how memory is stored and available to our intuition and that in turn our intuitive abilities can make rapid associations and connections with that material. That is exactly what happened that morning.
I had started out to complain about the current situation (better done on paper, in private, than exploding out ones mouth), but then hit a memory and another and another. I followed them and discovered that I was prepared for the situation unfolding around me because I had been through similar experiences and done some exploring and studying concerning it.
That doesn’t mean I was confident about the role I would be engaged in, but far less fearful on many levels. No two situations are exactly the same but each one holds its own surprises, and particular lessons. Simply put, I felt a lot more at ease and hopeful than when I had begun the journal entry.
Later that day, while sitting quietly on the patio outside my Mother’s apartment, more of those memories surfaced and continued to inform the present situation. As I sat there, my eye was caught by movement alongside the brick wall of the building housing the apartments. It was a fast moving squirrel with a rather large bushy tail, and he was moving with determination and focus, aimed at the patio where I was sitting.
When he hit the patio, he slid along the concrete as though he were completing an exhilarating home run. He came to a stop, spread-eagled flat against the patio surface. He then raised his head and seemed to survey the area like the king who might own it. He seemed particularly pleased with himself and his present position. I wondered what he would do when he finally realized that I was sitting less than ten feet from where he was playing monarch of the hill.
He seemed to finally realize that all was not as it should be in his little patch of the world, cocking his head at several different angles, staring in my direction as I sat perfectly still watching him. And then, I did the unforgivable. I used my tongue to “tsk, tsk,” at him. It was as though he had been shot from a canon as he leapt from the patio, crossed a stretch of grass and raced up into the safety of a near-by tree branch. All in about the time one uses to blink an eye.
I imagined, if he’d had the ability to speak, I would have heard an alarming screech of something like, “Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiit!” I laughed out loud at the image. Once he was safely ensconced in the nook of the tree branch, he turned back to me and began to scold me loudly for disrupting his moment of pleasure. He was definitely not a happy camper. That only made me laugh even more.
Squirrels are a symbol of being prepared. They spend a great deal of time searching out and burying food for the coming winter months when scavenging is extremely difficult. They are a particular message to those of us who need to be reminded that although the present moment might be filled with bright warm sunshine, the coming days might not hold such wonderful temperatures and preparation is a good and practical idea, as well as necessary for survival.
I realized that my stream of memories was a squirrel type thing, a sort of preparation informing me that I could and would be able to get through the coming weeks and months without going insane. But, my little friend showed me that we can’t always be completely prepared. Shit happens, and usually when we least expect it. Too much confidence can set us up for a harsh awakening when just such things occur.
There is an old wives’ tale that when squirrels appear in the fall months with extra large bushy tails, it means that the coming winter will be particularly harsh and difficult. I got the message. I may, in the moment, be somewhat prepared for what is coming, but a little extra awareness will not come amiss. Otherwise, I might be in danger of using up a great deal of my limited energy, scolding the circumstances and simply making a lot of unnecessary noise, complaining about things that are better kept on paper and in private.