Footprints in the Snow
The blizzard dropped its snow and the next day the rabbit tracks told a story.
My own story culminated in the revealing of a spirit guide. I had moved a wheelbarrow and revealed a small newborn bunny in the lush grass who was perhaps not expecting the full sun. I quickly put the wheelbarrow back as I had found it.
After that morning I began to notice the rabbits everywhere. Sometimes a thought would occur to me and I would attribute it to the Radiant Bunny, whose voice echoed from some unconscious hutch.
During the spring that year, I had written the words: Finding Myself on Rabbit Beach. I was like a buoy on the turbulent waters. In my poems that spring the words were rocks upon which the swell of the coming waves could be felt.
But the even the great men and women die. The bronze statues cannot recreate their perspective in full. The marble bases of these statues succumb to moss. Little puddles of water freeze and expand in the cracks beneath a cold-spring waxing moon such that all frozen roads are doomed. All these ideas and important egos and yet a small baby rabbit stops me in my tracks.
I try not to but I think about how one day someone might find a need for that overgrown hedge over there and start motoring up the bulldozer. I focus my attention instead on making connections.
Yet, how do I know how the Spirit Guide is guiding me? There are all of these things I have no control over. The sum total of my life is an endless stream of inquiries to figure this all out. Then there is your answer, ping!, and now what?
The rabbit is hiding. The snow is melting. The chickens are singing about their eggs. Deva comforts my true love. The planets swoosh about.
Today I might not ask many questions. Today I might just let the answers come to me. I practice patience. I await any surprise glimpse of the radiant bunnies that might be coming my way. It's all good. All of these perspectives to choose from and for today perhaps I will keep things simple.
Today my skin is furry and I have a taste for carrots. Mmmmmm, edible flowers. Rabbits are nibbling, not thinking about nothin'.