Remembrance

This certainly has been the strangest year most of us have ever experienced. The unexpected has become the norm and seems like we are having to adjust daily to the unknown. Trying to find life’s joy isn’t easy with the constant grim news that comes flashing up on notifications. Not since wartime has there been a daily body count, the number of people who have lost their lives to the virus.

Death has been present in my life this year. My mother-in-law, Dusty, passed away in February after 17 years of Alzheimer’s. The family was able to be with her during her final hours and we are grateful for that would not have been the case just a few weeks later. Dusty’s ashes remain in our home awaiting burial that has already been postponed once. My beloved mentor Rachael died in the March and her memorial is delayed indefinitely.  This last weekend Hamilton and I attended a memorial for a cousin now buried with parents and grandparents under the shade of a tree.

The last few weeks, I’ve been working on projects around the house. Like so many Americans, with our lives restricted, we turn to our home to nurture us and, in turn, we are nurturing our homes.  I’ve been deep cleaning many of the rooms of my house that were neglected while I was in school the last few years.  It is hard work that must be done to keep my beloved home looking its best. In each room, I systematically wash all the woodwork, oil the furniture, clean the windows and wash the curtains. While I scrub and polish, I keep my mind occupied with an endless stream of podcasts, usually one just running into the next so that I’m not sure what I will be listening to for the next bit of work.

The last on the project list has been the library.  We are all addicted to reading and the library tends to overflow with read and to-be-read books as well as art projects and memorabilia from family members.  It is definitely the hardest room to clean. I needed to repair some of the paint and clean behind bookshelves that hadn’t been moved in several decades. As I worked, the podcast that started was an interview with Dr. Cedrus Monte who recently published a book about the death of her mother. The book launch was delayed so Cedrus was reading excepts as a virtual launch. The poignant words flowed over me as I worked and allowed me to reflect on my own losses. At one point, Cedrus speaks of the fear of disappearing into the unknown as death moves in and I experienced those words as the fear of being forgotten.  It doesn’t take but a couple of generation for our lives to fade and become a handful of unidentified photographs.

But in my library is a special place of remembrance, a secret compartment where the memory of a stranger continues on in my world.  I have a small antique writing desk that Dusty bought as a lovely end table for the library. A few years ago, I opened it and was investigating the nooks and crannies when I lifted a compartment that held a hidden space.  To my surprise it was full of papers of the former owner, Robert Lennie, a teacher at George Watson’s College in Edinburgh, Scotland. With these receipts, letters and cherished papers, I am able to piece together a snapshot of Robert’s life in 1920’s and ‘30’s Scotland. He was not married and was a lay preacher. But my favorite paper is a short poem written in pencil on a blue piece of paper by his students who obviously really loved Professor Lennie.

They’ve an excellent teacher, (his name’s Mr. Lennie).

He doesn’t have foes, and friends, he has many…

I have a picture with no names on the back so I can’t be sure it is Robert. But I cherish these hidden snippets of his life. This total stranger from another land and time has a place of honor in my home linking me to a magical land that I love. Robert isn’t forgotten and continues to live on in a way he could have never imagined, in a home far away from Scotland.

We too can’t imagine where our lives are going or what legacy we will leave.  The winds of fate seem to have much to do with that and our current whirlwind of life is sweeping us to an unknown world. The best I know to do is live life well and to the fullest, nurturing people and cherishing place. Hopefully that will be enough legacy for me to be remembered and leave a bit of love and kindness in my wake.

More Gifts

Snuggling by the fire with Persy and Tim

In this season of giving, I want to remind you of three precious gifts every pilgrim needs. Last year, I wrote about music, silence and joy.  This year, I have three gifts that are essential to my holiday joy.  For me, these three gifts not only are a part of pilgrimage but also represent the cozy happiness of Christmas and the Winter Solstice, for sitting by a crackling fire with a good book and my dear family is the essence of life here on the farm.  So, light a candle with me, gather a stack of books and cherish the precious people in your life and say a heartfelt thank-you to the people that have shown kindness to you this year.

 

People:   Unless you go to the wilderness, other people will be part of your experience.  Fellow travelers are the people we share our journey with and give us companionship; they are called to the same experience and give you new perspectives on the way.   It is the unexpected person we meet that can be one of the most important parts of the pilgrimage experience.   We meet to give each other the information, care and encouragement that become your teacher on the path.   We meet to take care of the needs of each other.  But most of all, we get to see every person as an expression of divinity.   I have shared hotel rooms with stranded travelers, given shoes to someone who’s shoes were broken.   I was given a much-needed ride to my destination and encouragement when I was tired.  My fellow travelers had information and insights that I desperately needed.   Most of all, they were companions to share my joy.

 

Books:  Choose carefully your reading material for the journey.   You might want to have something easy to read for the plane but, on the journey, I recommend something that can inspire you and enhance your experience.   A book of poetry, spiritual stories or inspiration or holy text are important companions.   Some people prefer to not read at all and just keep the moment pure.   I love to read and find that a well-chosen book can guide me on the path.   My daughter has a book with a poem a day.  She reads it for inspiration and then makes notes in the margin as a mini diary of that day.    I took a book of modern Zen stories to Spain and one of the lessons became the theme of my journey.   Choose what works best for you and let the spirit of the journey and your heart guide you and it will be perfect.

 

Fire:  Candles in a cathedral, sitting around a campfire, warming by a fireplace: these are the primordial acts that connect us with life-giving fire.   In our modern lives, we don’t need an open flame for life, to cook or keep warm but, in our spiritual life, fire and flame focus us on the mysteries.   Our ancestors sat around the fire at night telling the stories of our stars.   Devotees for millennia lit candles at holy sites to focus their prayers with a flame.    We use incense as a symbol of our devotion as the smoke surrounds us and brings the holiness to all our senses.   Shamans use smudge, sage and sweet grass burning together to cleanse the energy to create sacred space.   Give thanks for the fire that burns in us all to connect to our world and be a part of life.

 

 

Joseph Campbell

Pacifica

Joseph Campbell Library, Pacifica

Just a short pilgrimage to a neighboring state changed the course of my life. After I wrote this post three years ago, I decided to get a masters at Pacifica Graduate Institute. I really didn’t want to go back to school but the call to new adventure was too powerful to resist. Now I just have two weeks of school until I’m finished. I had no idea that day in Alabama how my life would change. I’m so glad I heard the call.

 

I was 26 and a new mother when I decided I wanted to be an Episcopalian. I liked the local parish so I had a meeting with the priest to talk about joining the church. We talked about my childhood church and it’s very literal interpretation of the Bible. The priest then said something I will never forget that rocked my world. “You know the Bible is a myth.” Holy Cow! What? Everything stopped in that instant as the foundation of my world view cracked wide open. I barely knew what a myth was, in my narrow world novels, fairy tales, myths and Santa were lies and not allowed. The priest told me to read Joseph Campbell’s The Power of Myth. I read the book but didn’t understand it much, I had no context for the stories or concepts but I knew it was important. It took me an entire year to just wrap my mind around the idea that the Bible was not literal. The stories began touching my heart instead of baffling my brain.

I kept going to church and joined a book club and slowly, stone by stone, dismantled the cosmology of my childhood. When my world view lay in pieces all around me I started to rebuild with the good from my old life but now with the new materials. I read more mythology, Jung and archetypes, and novels. Each new book lead to the next and I spent all my spare time building a new and expanded paradigm that was much more open with plenty of room to grow.

I kept reading Joseph Campbell and watched The Power of Myth. I listen to interviews and kept a copy of Reflections on the Art of Living: A Joseph Campbell Companion in the side pocket of my car. When I had a few minutes waiting in the school pick-up line or for ballet to finish, I would read the wise words. The book was tattered and coffee stained, underlined and loved. The myths, gods and goddesses became an important part of my life. When I went to Egypt for the first time, I knew little of the history but a great deal of the cosmology, I went to live the myths and stand before the gods. I was on the heroine’s journey.

Joseph Campbell was a professor at Sarah Lawrence College and wrote about universal themes of mythologies in all cultures. His book The Hero with a Thousand Faces has been very influential in our modern culture and the ideas helped create new myths for our time. Luke Skywalker is a classic mythological hero that bravely journeyed to the unknown to recover his lost self and bring back the wisdom for his society.

In mid-March I was traveling home from Alabama listening to some tapes of Michael Toms’ 1979 interview of Joseph Campbell. I had those tapes for many years and was going to listen to them one more time. I nearly had to pull over, on those tapes where exactly the validation I was needing about some materials I was working on about alchemy. Alchemy is not a subject usually associated with Joseph Campbell but there it was, an interview from nearly 40 years ago, perfect in that moment. The timeless quality of Joseph Campbell’s work is an indication of the deep universal Truths he was able to convey to the world. His work become new again as I grew and could hear it on a new level.

Two weeks later I was in southern California and had a day free to “follow my bliss” as Joseph Campbell so famously taught. I headed up the coast to just below Santa Barbara to Pacifica Graduate Institute and the Joseph Campbell Library. Nestled in a beautiful garden of a campus was a small library that holds all of Joseph Campbell’s personal books. Usually only accessible a few hours a week, the archivist happened to be free so he ushered me into a small dark room with bookshelves from floor to ceiling and a few display cases in the middle. I started to ask questions about alchemy and the librarian got on an old wooden ladder and pulled down a book. It was Carl Jung’s book on alchemy, Mysterium Conjunctionis. In it was Joseph Campbell’s prolific and very tidy underlining and notes. In front of me, under my fingertips was the meeting of two great minds. I turned the pages and read passages and notes and breathed in the magic of those two men who together restored the mythical journey to our modern world. Their work has restored the magic and mystery to my barren, literal life.

I spent a blissful hour and a half in that library, looking at the books that influenced such a great mind. There was an entire shelf of books on the Grail legend, some of them hundreds of years old. I saw his personal copy of his first book and a copy of The Joseph Campbell Companion with its familiar cover. In the display case were some of his favorite artifacts of ancient deity and a small metal ruler he used for underlining. Joseph was once asked if he meditated, he replied “no I underline.”

The Joseph Campbell Foundation   http://www.jcf.org

Pacifica Graduate Institute  www.pacifica.edu

PacificaIMG_3167

California Poppys,  Pacifica

E-book

My Book:

Pilgrimage: A Modern Seeker’s Guide is now available in e-book at Amazon and currently featured as a selection on Kindle Unlimited.  I would love if you would leave a review, it helps others find my book.

My Blog:

This summer I’m finishing my last classes for my Masters in Depth Psychology and speaking at the Jungian Society for Scholarly Studies in Asheville this June. As I work on my last few papers, I’m going to take some time from writing new posts.  So please enjoy my favorite posts from the past and I will be back in October with new adventures.

 

Basho

Breaking the silence

of an ancient pond,

A frog jumped in to water —

A deep resonance.

This haiku by the poet Matsuo Basho (1644-1694) is one of the most recognizable poems in Japan. Haiku is a short traditional form of Japanese poetry consisting of seventeen syllables divided into three sections of five-seven-five. It was Basho who perfected the haiku form, but he also wrote beautiful prose in the form of a travel log with the haiku inspired by his experiences. The Narrow Road to the Deep North is his best-known work and read by almost every Japanese high school student and translated more than any other work of Japanese literature.

I first learned of Basho while researching pilgrimage. I was already familiar with the haiku form and its popularity in both Japan and the West but going deeper into Basho’s life and work expands my understanding of the form, but more importantly informs my own pilgrimages and soul journey. Although Basho spent a great deal of time traveling, it is this pilgrimage to the Deep North that called his soul. To wander in nature and discover the world was not a luxury for Basho but a necessity for his poetry and the calling of his soul.  On this journey, Basho developed a new form a writing called haibun, which alternates prose and haiku to describe his journey. The prose, equally as beautiful as the poems, explains the physical aspects of the journey where the haiku illuminates the internal images and experiences. He walked 1200 miles over five months with his disciple Sora and planned part of the route to include places described by other writers. Basho’s call to a pilgrimage was not a specific place but to experience whatever unfolded before him. “I myself have been tempted for a long time by the cloud-moving wind–filled with a strong desire to wander”.

Basho’s words are beautiful in their simplicity and grace. He uses a lightness and gentleness to describe nature and life itself. Beauty becomes an essential element in the soul’s journey. Basho found beauty on his journey: in the change of seasons, fleeting moments of sun on dew, a hazy moon, the arch of the Milky Way. He found beauty in the smallest details of cherry blossoms, pine trees, wind and water. Life is fleeting and these details captured the ephemeral moment when life is perfect beauty. Basho took great delight and wonder in these moments that fed his soul’s path. It is in these brief moments that Basho experienced eternity and left a trace in his haiku.

Walking pilgrimages are inherently simple. Life is reduced to what you can carry on your back. Basho’s haiku perfectly alludes to the essentialness of his journey. Pleasure is found in the simple moment of a flower, the soft breeze, or sound of a cricket. Basho left behind the comforts of home and community to see the world in the simplest moments where the sacred is found. Basho doesn’t analyze or offer opinion on what he sees, rather he relates pure experiences as they happen in the moment and in his heart. Haiku becomes the way he expresses his journey. Although haiku is simple in form it is not simplistic for the subtly expressed by the image associations and verbal play enter in the depths of the human heart.

In the essence of his work, Basho is above all a nature poet. All his senses were tuned to the natural world and Basho misses none of the subtleties of the wind, seasons, smell and sound, often bringing him to tears in the moments of pure wonder and grace. His poetry and prose are words of praise and thanksgiving for life in all of its forms. The sea, rocks, stars, mountain, trees, flowers, all participated in Basho’s poems to the ineffable mystery of our world.

Although written almost 400 years ago, Basho’s story and poetry are timeless. His experiences and observations reflect his deep understanding of nature and his own interior life. Pilgrimage, as a time of solitude in nature, becomes a catalyst that opens an important soul space.  Basho heard the call of this soul space and left a beautiful account of what that interior pilgrimage looks like. His words are those of the mystic that sees the sacred in all things and in all places.

The title of Basho’s story, The Narrow Road to the Deep North, reflects the physical road and is a metaphor for the quality of the interior journey for the sacred does not come with broad highways and neon signs. The sacred is found with effort on a narrow path that takes time and sacrifice, suffering and joy. There is no easy and quick way to a lasting relationship with nature and the soul. Hard work and dedication are needed to find these numinous moments when the world becomes alive with wonder as we step out of time into the timeless.

Later this year I am going to Japan to see for myself what inspired Basho. I will be walking part of the 88 Temple trail on Shikoku island, a 1000-year-old spiritual pilgrimage and a sister pilgrimage to the Camino. Basho did not walk this particular trail, he walked north of what is today Tokyo, but the landscape and culture as well as the search for the heart and soul of nature aligns me with the spirit of Basho.  Basho wrote on many subjects that moved him to live in relationship with his soul and thus offers me language to seek the same beauty.

 

 

Amid mountains of high summer,

I bowed respectfully before

The tall clogs of a statue

Asking a blessing on my journey

 

To talk casually

About an iris flower

Is one of the pleasures

Of the wandering journey.

 

In the utter silence

Of a temple,

A cicada’s voice alone

Penetrates the rocks.

 

 

.

 

Take Joy!

When I was a little girl, I spent many a happy hour reading The Little Princess and The Secret Garden, books illustrated by the artist Tasha Tudor.  The delicately drawn pictures and watercolors add to the enchanting story.  I particularly remember the illustration of the robin showing Mary Lennox the key to the hidden garden.   Tasha (1915-2008) illustrated and wrote dozens of children’s books during her prolific career.

A few years ago, I became fascinated with Tasha again, not just for her art but because of the unique life she crafted for herself.  She was fascinated with the 1830’s and moved to a farm in rural Vermont to recreate a life from that time.   She lived without electricity and wore clothes of the period.   She had a prolific garden and a barn full of animals which she tended with her beloved Corgis.   As an artist, she created the life she imagined and lived it to the fullest.   She used the words “take joy” to express the way she experienced life.   Her darling Christmas book and a documentary about her are also named Take Joy!

So in these last cold days of winter, before the spring comes, I want to encourage you to also Take Joy by finding beauty in the everyday and crafting your life to reflect your joy.   I find that we are so bombarded with everyone else’s ideas and desires, or just what the culture tells us to think and do, that we don’t take the time to really create our unique world.   This week I have been reading Cal Newport’s book Digital Minimalism.  This is a new manifesto on how to loosen the control of media in your life so that you make more conscious choices about how you spend your time and what influences your thinking.  Take steps to mindfully use media so that life isn’t spent in front of a screen but out in the beauty of the world.   The constant bad news causes such anxiety and stress that the beauty all around is missed and then lost.  Choose media that brings happiness to your life, not that glorify the worst of human behavior.

Enter Tasha’s enchanted world for a bit and find that Joy and Take it into your life and then consciously look at your world to find the beauty.   In my world it is the chickadees having their breakfast, the wind ruffling the lake, the early spring frogs croaking in the shallow pond, the lichen on the fallen tree, the smell of the daffodils from the flower market…

I ❤ Books

Blood Wolf Supermoon rising

January has gotten away from me all too quickly.  Christmas delightfully lingered until Epiphany and I barely got the Christmas trees snuggled into the basement when I got a cold that then became bronchitis.  School started up, our water main broke and Caroline needed some surgery (fully mended now).  Whheeww! And I didn’t feel like I was ready to leave 2018 yet.  I want to reminisce a bit about some lovely moments from last year.  There were trips to Taiwan, New Mexico, New York and of course Los Angeles. But what I want to remember and hold on to are some of the lovely things I read and watched so let me share some of my favorite literary moments of 2018.  Hopefully I will inspire something for you to enjoy and I would love for you to leave a comment on what was your favorite book or movie/series of 2018 for me to enjoy in 2019.

Last winter, one of my classes was on dreams.  I have taken classes in Jungian dream work before but there are new and interesting ways of processing dreams.  Dream Tending: Awakening to the Healing Power of Dreams by Stephen Aizenstat takes dreams from strict interpretation to learning how to have a relationship with your dreams and let them enter your waking world.  I spent a morning in a class with Dr. Aizenstat working on dreams and it was a magical experience to see this master dream tender at work.  If you are interested in knowing more about dreams, this is the book to get.

Although I didn’t read this next book for class, it combines work I did in two class on vocation and archetypes.  The Great Work of Your Life: A Guide for the Journey to Your True Calling by Stephen Cope, is a beautifully written book that uses the story of the Bhagavad Gita and weaves it with stories of people (famous and not famous) finding the vocation that comes from the heart.

In November, Alexandra and I went to the LA Opera to see Philip Glass’ opera Satyagraha.  This is the story of Gandhi during his time in South Africa as he developed his ideals of non-violent resistance.  Once again, the opera uses the ancient Indian story of the Bhagavad Gita, to underscore Gandhi’s struggle to find the courage to fulfill his destiny in India.  A unique and powerful work sung in Sanskrit, it is Philip Glass’ masterpiece of opera and social change.   If you love music, I recommend Words Without Music, a memoir by Philip Glass about this remarkable composer’s life and work.  I have several of his albums on my iTunes and I wrote a paper on this amazing opera.

During a week off of school, I read Feet of Clay: Saints, Sinners, and Madmen: A Study of Gurus by Anthony Storr.  A well written scholarly look at the phenomena of gurus, good and bad, this book helped me understand the psychology around gurus and the people that follow them.   Coincidently the Netflix show Wild Wild Country about Bahgwan Rajneesh came the same week I was reading about him in this book.  You know I had to watch it.

A few other books I enjoyed:

Sacred Space, Sacred Sound: The Acoustic Mysteries of Holy Places by Elizabeth Hale

Deep Work by Cal Newport

Process: The Writing Lives of Great Authors by Sarah Stodola

A Life Less Throwaway: The Lost Art of Buying for Life by Tara Button

Some TV series/Movies I enjoyed: 

Howards End (2018 and 1992), The Miniaturist, Durrells of Corfu, Leave No Trace, Jane, Loving Vincent, Darkest Hour, This Beautiful Fantastic

 

 

 

I Wrote a Book

 

I wrote a book!  Pilgrimage: A Modern Seeker’s Guide was launched on May 18 and is now available on Amazon. Over the last 5 years I’ve written about my adventures traveling in the world and at home in my everyday life. This is a guide book to help you find your own pilgrimage in the world and the path to your heart.

The first part is a guide for the physical journey, either around the world or close to home. I answer the questions of why take a pilgrimage and what is a sacred site. Then I created a step by step guide to help you take a pilgrimage from the first whisperings of a Call, preparing, the journey and integration of your experience into your life.

The second half of the book is 40 days of reflections to help find meaning in your journey and discovering your authentic self. Each day is written to take you into your heart and then unfold your new experiences and knowledge to bring you to a new understanding of yourself and the world.

This small book is an accessible and practical guide to make your journey a discovery of our beautiful world and yourself.

You can find my book here:  www.amazon.com

And here:  http://www.audreypress.com

I would love for you to write an Amazon review to help others find my book.

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photo by C. Savage

Kilimanjaro

Sunrise from the summit of Kilimanjaro

Guest Post by Alexandra Bowen

In 2013 I forgot to return (i.e. stole) three books from the New York Public Library: All About The Oscar, Behind the Oscar, and A Pictorial History of the Academy Awards. These are the perfect reflection of what I was reading while in school—and a perfect reflection of how hard it is to care about overdue library books once you move. By 2015, I said goodbye to New York and started a my film career in LA, and the last thing I wanted to do after a long, albeit fulfilling, work day was read those damn books. Another literary interest took its place: Africa.

This interest isn’t entirely out of left field. I started reading because my dad was always reading, and he because his dad was always reading. What are they reading about? Africa. (And WWII, but that seemed more like a man thing than a Bowen thing). So I started reading about Africa.

More specifically, the Congo.

It seemed so dark and mysterious. And different from where I was. I started with King Leopold’s Ghost, then Blood River, In The Footsteps of Mr. Kurtz, and Dancing In the Glory of Monsters. This world was complicated, far away, oftentimes bleak, but always layered. There are cities in the Congo where time goes backwards. Grandparents had modern amenities that their grandchildren have never seen. They joke, “What did the Congolese use before they discovered candles?” Answer: electricity. I’d blow through these books each night before bed, wake up well-rested the next morning, and walk the palm-tree lined streets to my office while considering King Leopold, Kinshasa, and Mobutu. This fixation grew until every standing-in-line-at-CVS moment, morning or evening, was occupied by the Congo.

Then I climbed Kilimanjaro.

(We summited! and had a blast)

I landed back in LA with a thud—jittery, tired, and overly excited by all toilets. I settled into life again, ready to read under my down comforter. But I felt a full body block against reading about Africa. I couldn’t do it. The fixation disappeared. Fully obsessed to fully disinterested. I can only compare that weird sensation to taking a pill that instantly cures a headache.

Maybe it’s the every-changing phases of youth. Maybe it’s PTSD from international travel. I suspect, if I give it time, I’ll discover that the real block is that Africa is not a mystery anymore. It doesn’t matter that I was across the border in Tanzania; the far away world of the Congo is tangible now. There’s a chance I’ll stare at my hand too long and think too deeply about the dark details of what happened there.

I don’t know what I expected to take away from this trip, but it certainly wasn’t that. So goes life. Those people couldn’t care less if I’m reading about them or not—I wasn’t put here to solve the riddle of the Congo. For now, I feel a sense of endearment to that place. I will bide my time, send them good vibes, and get back to reading my contraband non-fiction film industry books until I’m ready to do what I am meant to do:

make a movie about it.

 

 

 

Opossum

It was a perfect early October day here in east Tennessee and it was time for an annual customer appreciation picnic at the local wildlife/nature center. This is one of my favorite days of fall for not only is the atmosphere beautiful but I love the food and each year there is a theme, this year it was ‘America’. After I had my dinner I went in the main building to see this year’s exhibit of birds of prey. The featured star was a bald eagle named America. He had been injured as a young bird and so had a long and illustrious career teaching children about his species. It is amazing to be so close to this magnificent bird, so regal. There was also a beautiful small screech owl with an eye injury that keeps her from hunting. It was too bad these lovely birds were no longer in the wild but they do so much to teach about birds and conservation.

But what does that have to do with opossums? Well nothing really, I was just setting the scene. Now on to the opossum. When I arrived at the picnic the head naturalist Lyn Bales was holding an opossum named Olivia. I’ve certainly seen lots of opossums, alive through the window having a midnight snack on my back porch and also unfortunately dead on the road, a way too common sight. But this was the first time for me to see one up close and personal, I love opossums. They are odd little creatures with pointy noses, beady eyes and a long hairless tail—I’m not much on the tail. They are the only marsupials in North American and they can be seen carrying their babies on their backs. The babies are beyond adorable.

I went straight over to Olivia and was totally enchanted by her whiskers and soft round gray ears. I mentioned to Lyn that I had just read the day before he had written a new book, Ephemeral by Nature. I guess I looked harmless and he let me pet her! I got to pet an opossum. Well here is why I was so excited—the opossum has long been one of my totem animals (symbolic personality traits). Strange, I know, most people have cool animals like wolves, bears, hawks or owls. Not me, I have an opossum but I’ve learned to love the gifts that opossum gives me. The gift of the opossum is to play dead. (Actually the faint when scared and give off a scent of rotting carcass.) That doesn’t seem like much of a skill set but let me tell you it is mighty useful. When you play dead you don’t have to use any energy fighting off detractors or criticism. “Nothing to see here” and then you run off as soon as the danger passes and go about your business. It is a good way to stay out of trouble and arguments with nary a scratch. It has saved me lots of suffering.

I loved having the opossum on my side but after awhile I needed some new techniques that were a little more empowered so I took on a bit more strength with the black panther. But every once in awhile the opossum keeps me out of trouble or is just the most expedient choice. Olivia the opossum was just the medicine I needed that day to remind me that opossums are not just helpful but cute too.