I began my journey in my secret garden, sitting on a bench in the shade, overlooking woodland and fields flush with summer growth.
I focused my intent on the World Below, and a wide, smooth tunnel opened before me, leading down at a sloping angle. The tunnel emerged from a cave in the side of an escarpment. A trail traveled along the face, and the wooded slope fell off sharply alongside.
As I walked along the path with the cliff rising on my right, I wondered why I had been brought here, and who I would meet. I passed a cave, and knew from the smell that Bear was inside. Although I paused, She did not come out to me, and I got the image of Her curled up asleep.
I continued along the path a short while and came upon a mountain lion crouched and snarling on a rock above the trail. I expected Her to pounce, but She kept snarling, hunched, on the rock. I walked past her carefully and continued down the trail.
Quail scuttled out of the trees and began dodging my footsteps until I finally stopped walking. Quail wanted me to look to my left, over the edge. I saw tree after tree stretching steeply down hill. All I could see was dense forest and the tangle of underbrush.
But then I was urged to raise my eyes and change my perspective. I was able to look out over the tree tops and see the whole forest laid out before me, stretching out to the horizon. I smiled in amusement. I was being told that I “can’t see the forest for the trees”. By keeping my view narrowly focused, I could only see downhill into the clutter of trees, and my vision was limited. By looking up and seeing above it all, I could maintain a larger perspective, and could see the “bigger picture”.
Bear and Mountain Lion were showing me two behaviors that limit my perspective: Hibernating in a cave and sleeping does not aid me in expanding my vision; getting defensive and snarling also limits my view. By leaving these behaviors behind, I can arrive at a spot where I can see beyond the details to the larger view of life.
I thanked Quail, Bear, and Lion for sharing their wisdom with me. I returned to my garden, where I contemplated the lesson I learned.
The journey ended.
~Flame RavenHawk
August 3, 2003