The Sad Fate of Sally or Petey Possum

These days, I have so many tears lying just beneath the surface. So many. And there are not enough opportunities to allow these tears to flow. As much as I want or need to cry, I just can't.

One morning I was sitting on my front porch and a very large crow landed in the dogwood tree in our front yard. He was raising a ruckus about something. He faced the street in front of our house and ceaselessly cawed.  I talk to crows because they are so smart, I believe they understand me. At the very least, I think they can tell by the tone of my voice that I love them and I mean them no harm. So I asked the crow, "Do you have something to tell me?" He remained on the branch of the dogwood tree for a few more seconds yelling at the street and then he flew away.

I sat there, taking in the crisp morning air when I noticed something on the street. I put on my glasses and discovered it was a dead possum.

I went inside, put on some gloves and got a plastic bag in order to collect the possum's body. As I went outside, I noticed the person across the street in their car getting ready to back out of their driveway. This would almost certainly have caused further ruination to the poor possum's body. I rushed over to the possum's side, holding up my hand for the person to stop. Which they did. I gathered the body in the plastic bag. It was not completely taken by the process of rigor mortis. The blood was bright red. It seemed to me that this possum had been hit fairly recently.

I carried her lifeless body to the backyard and began digging a grave underneath a giant pine tree. I kept hitting roots and decided to dig around them. In this way, I sculpted an earthen cradle with a canopy of roots. I burned some sage and smoked the newly dug environs. I burned a candle and dropped some tobacco into the hole as a blessing. I removed the possum from the plastic, wrapped her in soft red cloth and tucked her into her resting place. She seemed comfortable there. As I covered her body with dirt, I began to cry. I apologized for the harsh end to which her life had come. I thanked her for her life. I told her I love her. And the tears flowed.

Once her body was covered, I heaped a pile of pine needles on top of her grave and placed some pine cones across the top. I put a piece of a cinder block at the foot of the grave. A fence stands at her head. So it is as if she has a headboard and a footboard to her bed underneath the tall pine tree in our backyard.

~~~

Towards the end of winter this year, I was awakened by a very rambunctious crow right outside my bedroom window. I dressed to go outside and see what the commotion was about. I discovered the crow was yelling at a possum in a tree. This went on for a long time, long enough for me to grab my phone and make a video of it. It seemed to me that the crow did not like the possum very much and was telling it to go away. The possum seemed nonplussed. Eventually the crow flew away and the possum ambled down out of the tree and on her way.

In the Spring, a baby possum found her way into our house. There was evidence that she had been making nightly stops to feast on dog food left in a bowl on the kitchen floor. My ally captured her and put her in a cardboard box with a little towel and some bits of food. We pondered what to do with her. Ultimately, we simply set her free in our backyard, which, even though we live by a street that is frequented by automobiles, provides a nice habitat for possums and rabbits and the like.

The next night, she returned. We captured her again, and again we set her free in the morning. I named this baby possum Sweet Sally Possum. I loved her. My ally and I continued this catch and release ritual with Sally until my ally decided it was time to set her free in a park. He captured her in a Have-a-Heart trap and drove her to a nice park with lots of trees and a stream running through it. I was a little bit sad about this move. At least if she remained in our backyard she would be safe, I thought. There was no harm in having her come in for dog food treats, I thought. I tried leaving dog food treats for her in the backyard. But if I failed at my task, she would return to the dog food bowl in the kitchen.

After Sally was taken away, another possum began to come in. He liked to show his teeth more than Sally, so I named him Petey. We played catch and release with Petey a few times before my ally drove him to the park as well.

I relate the story of the crow and possum and of Sally and Petey to you because I find it meaningful that this year has been bookmarked by episodes including them. A crow yelling at a possum in a tree, a crow yelling at a possum in the street, baby possums hanging out in our backyard, making nightly visits, and an adult possum buried in our backyard under a tall pine tree. There is no way to know if the possum I buried was Petey or Sally. But I honor them daily as I visit the possum's grave. The possums and the crows ushered in delight and tears. Both are necessary for my survival. I am grateful for this passage of time demarked by these beings and the quiet moments shared with Possum and Crow.

Rabbit! Rabbit!

During the 2016 Presidential campaign, I felt a bit like Cassandra warning people of the fall of Troy. No one listened to Cassandra. And she went mad.

The predominant argument I heard during the campaign was vote for Clinton, or else! Or else we get Trump! And he will destroy everything! He is racist, sexist, a xenophobe! We can't have someone like him in charge! He will get us into another war! He will get us killed!

I warned Democrats that all their anti-Trump rhetoric would create the opposite effect desired: he would be elected. And here we are.

Rather than focus on the obvious errors of the Democrats, I would like to focus on a more subtle one. This involves the lesson of Rabbit in Native American traditions: the lesson that we draw fear to ourselves.

By actively fearing a thing, this thing will manifest wholly in our life. It seems counter-intuitive. It seems like we need to hold an awareness of potential detrimental circumstances. While that may be true, that we may need to understand the possibility of nuclear annihilation, for example, we need not embellish this awareness with imagined scenarios and reactionary jargon.

This is a hard one to fully grasp since fear sinks its venomous hooks into our psyches causing us to spiral out of control through its labyrinthine corridors. Fear grips us. It controls us if we let it. And for some reason, fear is the current specter haunting our collective consciousness. It is at the forefront of many news articles, and many interactions on social media. We perpetuate our collective fear by sharing posts that others have shared which tickle the fear nerve.

Why do we choose to do this? We have the ability to interrupt this process. And we must.

Imagine if, during the campaign, we had perpetuated the concept that our economy can serve everyone, not just the select few. What if we had perpetuated the idea that healthcare is everyone's right. Or the idea that the First People will be respected. Their land will be held sacred. We will honor our treaties. We will care for our planet by ending our reliance on fossil fuels. We will invest in our infrastructure and bring jobs home. What if we had experienced excitement and hope rather than dread and fear?

Why bring all this up now? Because we have the option every single day to choose fear, but we have the responsibility to choose love. It sounds complex but it's really simple. Here's how it works. Let's say you're standing in line at a supermarket and someone starts talking with you about the insane things the president said and how he's going to get us into a nuclear war and we're all going to die. What if, instead of simply going through the corridors of fear, you were to respond, "Well, it is a good day to die!" Or, "I guess I better water my plants before the apocalypse." Or, "Has anyone ever told you that you have the most remarkable brown eyes?"

Similarly, when people share posts via social media that stir the fear nerve, pause. Notice that the fear nerve has been hit. Corresponding physical sensations to look for include rapid and shallow breathing, a furrowing of the brow, a tight sensation in your throat or your stomach. Recognize that your fingers are about to hit the "share" button. Remove your fingers from the keyboard/screen. Inhale. Exhale. Look at the sky or at the silly statue on your desk. Find something wonderful that you want to share with others. Find a moment of peace, a moment of contentment, a moment of joy that you can record and share instead. If you feel stuck, contact me. I can throw you some inspiration. It's one of the things I am actually capable of doing.

Peter Gabriel made a song with this line: "Fear is the Mother of Violence." Please contemplate this idea before you go spreading fear. Recognize that you are contributing to the violence in our society simply by being afraid.

You can do this. And you need to do this. You have the power to alter the collective psyche in this country by simply Being Peace.* Do it!

*This is a link to the entire text of Thich Nhat Hanh's book "Being Peace." Take advantage of it.

` For Cassandra `