Revelation

At the Reserve, I wondered around for a while seeking experiences... attacking swans, hares bounding from their forms, raven calls, trees drawing me into their embrace.

Nothing. Well, I disturbed a muntjac fawn who'd been left in a safe space and then the mother - on the front page - who circled back to the little one. But, you know, that wasn't up there with hares and ravens. And I was really hungry so I went to Kairos and sat down for soup and peanut butter sandwiches and coffee and an orange. Now that I think of it, that's a really odd meal. I had decided that I would focus on some details, as you'll see in the slideshow. But before that, I wanted to talk to the tree.

My piece on tree conversations had just been published here and I wanted more arboreal wisdom.

So I sat and tried to tune in. It was difficult. I was asking and asking and then the tree said, "You can't have revelations all the time, you know. Or rather, you have to appreciate what there is rather than seek more, always more."

Me: You're right.

Kairos: I know. You want to see hares and foxes don't you?

Me: Yes.

Kairos: Listen to the robins singing.

Me: Yeah, I bet they aren't seeking revelations all the time.

Kairos: Well...

Me: What? Robins are seeking enlightenment?

Kairos: Well, it's more that every phrase they sing is a revelation. They create. They live as revelation.

Me: Is that specific to songbirds?

Kairos: Not really. We're all creating.

Me: Except me?

Kairos: You just don't appreciate.

Me: Right. Well. What's revelation to you? What do you create?

Kairos: You wouldn't understand.

Me: Why not?

Kairos: We all, the wild ones, are always creating. It's in our roots or blood. Our past runs through us; our future flies forward. We are in the present but time is less... constrained. So, we live revelation. Think of it as a timelapse sequence or an aura or a force field.

Me: Not sure that helps.

Kairos: Lift up your hands, palm upwards.

[I do.]

Kairos: What do you feel?

Me: ...

Kairos: You feel the gift of air. Feel gratitude for this revelation. Now, clasp your hands.

[I do.]

Kairos: What do you feel?

Me: My hands?

Kairos: You feel connection to body and being. Feel gratitude for this revelation. Now, raise your arms, hands still clasped, like a kind of circular prayer. Lower the arms and bow your head.

[I do.]

Kairos: What do you feel?

Me: I feel that I am looking into a well.

Kairos: Yes. The well of everything and nothing. Look deep and you will find what you need.

[I look and look and look. My arms start aching. Suddenly a muntjac barks loudly close by and I start. but I keep looking, though my arms and shoulders ache. The muntjac keeps barking. I give up. Drop my arms.]

Kairos: The muntjac has a lesson for you.

Me: What?

Kairos: Work it out.

Me: That I don't belong? That I am a human and all the animals are scared of me? That I am invading their space?

Kairos: What is the lesson?

Me: I DON'T KNOW!!!

Kairos:...

I decide to take pictures. I look at details. I see caterpillars, ants, winged creatures and scuttling creatures. I see lichen and fungi and deer scat. I see a badger hair (I roll it in my fingers so I know it's badger hair).

And then I hear the leaves rustle as someone stops in their tracks. There's a throaty HOOUFF sound as I turn and see a fox canter back to the track.

My revelation.

But what was the lesson I should learn from the barking muntjac? What should I find in the well that holds everything and nothing?