Of late, I’ve been spending a lot of time wandering the forests that surround Sweetwater Vale. In my wanders, I’ve been meeting a lot of the creatures who make their homes in the forests. There’s the big buck with the wicked antlers, the red-colored turkey, the squirrel who’s missing half his tail, and the barred owl who makes his home in our pine forest.
These creatures give to Rebecca and I in many ways. We enjoy watching them play, eat, and fly. Rebecca captures many of them with her photography. We observe them as they move from season to season. But a week ago, I met one of the more elusive of the forest’s denizens.
I met a very special coyote.
For those of you not familiar with the wildlife of the
As you might imagine, I felt pretty lucky when I saw the coyote on this particular hike. He was about four hundred meters distant, lying in the middle of a huge field and basking in the sun. From my hiding-place in the trees, I watched him roll about in the short spring grass. He’d nap for a half-hour or so, and then roll about again, re-adjust, and go back to sleep. After a time, I thought I’d try to get a little closer, so I started moving quietly from tree to tree.
To my amazement, I made it all the way to the edge of the field without him seeing me. Delighted with my luck, I got down on my belly and started to cross the field, inching along as I tried to close the last hundred meters. There was a slight rise in the terrain between him and me, and since the wind was blowing favorably (and thus he wasn’t alerted to my scent), I managed to get about twenty feet away before he saw me.
I was ecstatic. I had never been so close to one of these wild predators, and as his eyes looked into mine, I was transfixed by his beauty.
Then he got up, and my heart skipped a beat.
This coyote was paralyzed. Both his back legs were draped uselessly behind him, and as he began to run, he had to pull himself along with his forelegs.
Rebecca and I have more ‘injured animal’ stories than we can recount. Animals in need (and humans, as well), often cross our path, and we always do our best to help out. As I watched the coyote flee, I did what came instinctively – I gave chase, intending to see if there was any way I could help.
Even with only two legs, the coyote was fast. I sprinted to head him off, and he darted about a little, seeing if he could find an escape. When it was clear that I wasn’t going to give up, he simply lay down in some leaves.
It was a surreal moment. I sat down on a rock a few feet away, and we regarded each other for a long while.
I tried to ascertain the nature of his wounds, but he was clearly uncomfortable with me getting any closer, and I couldn’t tell what had happened. Despite his paralyzed state, his eyes were sharp and clear, and he was not skinny – indeed, he looked well-fed.
It was one of the rare instances that I had a camera along, so I took a picture.
It’s tough to know what to do in situations like this. A part of us can feel that if some creature is injured this badly, the best thing we can do is to kill them. It reminded me of a scene from Peter Matthiessen’s book The Snow Leopard, in which he sees a young girl in
We have an idea that life can always be better. And that idea creates a scale with which we tend to judge both ourselves and the people around us. Living by this philosophy, we feel pity for the poor and envy towards the rich. But in truth, we know nothing about the suffering of others. We are too immersed in our own judgments. Was Peter’s little girl suffering? Was the coyote suffering? Is the poor person suffering? What about the rich?
With our judgments in place, we dole out our compassion and we dole out our contempt, all the while digging ourselves deeper into a trench of judgment. This is not to say that we shouldn’t reach out and help those whom we judge to be in need. But let us not pretend that we are making their lives better in the process. We may be setting into motion great happiness, or great misery.
When we give without assumptions, something special happens. We discover that we’re not giving in order to appease our own judgments, but that we are giving simply to GIVE. This is true compassion, and giving in this way is always a joyful thing. Nothing taints the purity of our giving.
This is most important when it comes to our relationship with ourselves. In our constant striving to make our lives better, we rarely stop to appreciate where we are. This simple skill is lost to us, and in this way we guarantee that no matter what we achieve, we will always be filled with desire for more.
It is fine to strive for more, but if we do it believing that our life will be better once we get what we want, then we’ll be trapping ourselves in an endless cycle. Let us see clearly enough to recognize that our joy is right here, right now, no matter what our circumstances. We may have just gotten a wonderful new job, just been diagnosed with terminal cancer, or be sitting down to a bowl of oatmeal in the morning. In each of these moments we are free to experience life, or to push life aside in a constant effort to make things better.
As for the coyote, I tossed him the dried meat I had brought along for my hike (which he eyed suspiciously), and then quietly got up and left. A few days later I went back to the same place, and he was gone. Perhaps he was slowly dying in a hollow log, or had already been killed by dogs, humans, or another predator. But he might just as well have been lounging in a sunny field, rolling over so that the sun could warm his belly. I don’t expect that I’ll meet him again, but in the few moments we had together, I was in the presence of a great and beautiful teacher.
Love is the thing that we experience in our hearts and minds when we give without reservation. When we see what is in life and appreciate it for its beauty and grandeur. You were indeed truly compassionate with the coyote. My heart went out to him with a sense of wanting to see him restored to his former vitality. But, no matter, he is still rolling in the grass underneath the sunshine with an appreciation for/of the moment that we humans would do well to emulate.
Beautiful, Jerry. I’ll bet the coyote would fully agree with the essence of your words. Perhaps, right now, he is eating a grasshopper in perfect embodiment of the love you speak of.
Sweetwater,
Kenton
poor grasshopper!
I’ll bet she saw the love too
Animals are like that, I imagine.
Kenton
Kenton, this was such a beautiful story about love and compassion. Thank you for sharing it.
Wow, that was a very beautiful story indeed. Especially since I’m thinking a lot about pain and suffering lately. Not because I suffer but in general … Thanks a lot for this story!
I hope the coyote was indeed rolling over in the sun
Another thought-provoking and inspirational account, Kenton, thanks.
I’m just not sure about “But in truth, we know nothing about the suffering of others. We are too immersed in our own judgments.”. Don’t we and are we, really? This thinking makes it seem too easy to detach ourselves from other’s suffering, and not reach out to help. Doesn’t it take much to understand when one is suffering, like maybe if we try to imagine ourselves in other’s shoes? And is it really okay to simply detach from it all and continue to focus on ourselves? Aren’t we all connected in some way? I’m not too sure about the answer, that’s for sure.
Just some thoughts that continue to nag me, albeit I do like your message(s).
Thanks Mags and Jerome!
sof theo — You bring up a very relevant question. In my experience I’ve found that it is very easy to misjudge others’ situations, usually because our own ideas about ‘how their life is’ and ‘how it should be’ creates a climate where we are primarily immersed in our ideas.
What is the reality of another’s feelings of pain or joy? Is what another presents to us ‘truth’, and what do we mean by ‘truth’? In short, we’re stuck with the fact that we can never be in another person’s head — we can only be in our heads, imagining what they are experiencing. Many people look at another person and think ‘that person could be doing so much better if they just made this or that change’. We do this to ourselves as well, often creating an endless list of improvements which must be made before we can start enjoying life.
This post isn’t a call to cease putting ourselves in others’ shoes — only a call to realize that when we do this, we’re not necessarily in touch with the reality of their situation — only with our imagination of what their situation is.
If I give a homeless person a thousand dollars, what will they do with it? They may create a new life for themselves. They may give it to another. They may purchase drugs and overdose. Often we give, and our giving is a set-up for us to make more judgments — I’m pleased if the homeless person changes their life by purchasing food and getting an apartment and a job, but I grow angry with them if they spend the money on meth.
My brother and I were in Nepal once, and a man with leprosy who had no legs dragged himself across the street to us. My brother, who was my guide in this country, rarely gave money to beggars, but this time he did, placing it into the man’s three-fingered hand. We then sat down on the side of the road to watch people, and the beggar dragged himself over to us, settled in beside us, and lit up a cigarette. Is this what my brother’s gift would be spent on? Cigarettes?
In this way, I could witness my own judgment about who was worthy of our compassion, and the reaction when I felt that the money wasn’t spent ‘properly’.
If we can give without this judgment, we create a totally different climate, especially when we give to ourselves. But often when we give with judgment, we further divide the world, and often fail to see the suffering of others (such as the suffering of the very wealthy).
As always, thanks for your thoughtful comments, sof theo!
Sweetwater,
Kenton
And thank you for your wise answers as always, Kenton!
Giving without judgment, or helping without condition, or sharing without expectation, I do like that. It allows us to be who we are in the moment, without thinking less or more of others, who are really just another ones like us. It lets us be as we let others be.
You just never cease to inspire, my friend.
Hello Kenton
I just thought you’d like to know this highly emotional reader could hardly do so for tears blocked much of the view.
Thank you for taking us with you on this adventure.
Barbara
Thank you sof theo =)
Hello Barbara! As always, thank you for sharing. The world is that much more beautiful when we can really feel.
Hugs,
Kenton
WOW
I loved reading this… very well written
and you’re so right
We know nothing about the suffering of others.. its not always so obvious and in retrospect.. it doesn’t need to be to lessen the severe judgement we cast on others
anyway I’m with Barbara.. I was definitely moved
*sigh* beautiful
Hello JEMi,
Thanks for adding your voice here. You’ve definitely hit on the very strong link between our ideas of compassion and our ideas of judgment.
Sweetwater,
Kenton
A wise man once wrote of an analogy of a 3d cube.
Many sides to a reality nobody can fully understand.
Many outcomes from a situation that seems harmful but which still blooms into some form of salvation.
An addict recieving a hit can experience:
The calming of the addiction
Relief from the cold and rain
The awakening from a toxic reality
When we give, we should give the gift of happiness.
Sadly humanity always tends to ‘give with strings or good intentioned agendas’ even if those strings are as thin as simply the expection of gratitude. Giving such as this is not really giving to make another happy, it’s actually ‘giving’ to appease yourself.
Expectation always brings disappointment in some form or another. Unconditional giving does not.
Who has the right to say that smoking is not happiness to a leper?
Who has the right to refuse another happiness or determine its appropriate conditions?
People in power have made the mistake of deciding what is happiness for others in the past. The result still haunts humanity.
~Darkwyntr~
Dear Darkwyntr,
I love when a comment adds this significantly to an article. Thank you for sharing such poignant words.
Sweetwater,
Kenton
Your welcome Kenton
And many thanks for the peaceful inspiration you provide us all
~darkwyntr~
Thank you Rebecca for telling me about Kenton’s story and his experience with this beautiful creature. I cannot remember when I enjoyed reading something more. Picturing that coyote in my mind I couldn’t help but feel a certain sadness that for whatever reason he has been robbed of his vitality and must find another way to survive. Is his life any less worthwhile simply because he must live it differently? I think not. Coyotes have long held a special place in my heart. There is something so mysterious and surreal about them. We have a pack that lives on our farm, and we are blessed with their night-song each evening. In the spring we laugh at the pup-calls, as they try so hard to mimic their parents. Occasionally we catch sight of one. I recall a couple of winters ago during deer season my husband and I were sitting in a tent blind. We heard a rustling in the ditch directly ahead of us. Instead of the expected deer, we were greeted with the presence of a coyote. He/She came into view and rolled around in the corn field. In no time at all we heard the same rustling and again a coyote presented itself. They greeted each other by rubbing noses and smelling each other. The second coyote scent-marked in the field. Eventually they both felt so comfortable that they rested in the field. I was so fascinated by them I completely forgot about the deer or even why I was out there to begin with. The coyotes so completely took over my mind. I felt so privileged to be given a glimpse into their world. Kenton, your experience with this wonderful predator is to be cherished for sure. They reach in and grab a hold of a small portion of our souls and we are never the same.
Dear MObugs,
I was so amazed to hear his story when he returned, and then to see the photo of the creature he had encountered. We, too, love to hear them singing, but we’ve never heard the pups! Our packs must wander broadly, because we only hear them once a month or so.
Your experience with the blind sounds amazing! It’s so difficult to get close to predators like that — what an incredible experience!
We so enjoy your blog, by the way, and all the amazing photos and experiences that we get to share when we visit. Thank you!
Rebecca =)
Dear MObugs,
Thank you for your words. I felt so blessed to encounter a coyote in this manner. I must confess that I still scan the hills searching for a grey animal that moves a little differently than all the rest . . .