He came at a time when I was in search of tiny anchors of divine connection in my suburban life.
The young buck with his antlers ascending from the crown of his head.
My animal liaison to spirit.
Perhaps he knew I needed someone while a huge foundational pillar in my life burned to the ground. Or perhaps, the new view beyond the fence as the leaves fell one by one into their seasonal surrender, only revealed the fact he had always been there.
During my moments of quiet, I gazed out the window as he peacefully rested and grazed the available grass. At times, it felt like we were looking into each other’s eyes, as he telepathically said, “You’re seen” and I responded with the utmost gratitude.
The last year has forced me to accept a hard truth, I am painstakingly disconnected from my entire being while living in the suburbs of New York City. I have trouble staying grounded and finding meaningful connections with Mother Earth.
I have ached to rekindle my relationship with the heartbeat of Gaia.
I have ached for more peace and silence.
My connection with the young buck helped me escape the parts of my human life that aren’t currently aligned with the needs of my soul. His presence was the reminder to cherish the small moments with the wonder of nature that I have sheltering in place during a global health crisis.
Last night, as we drove home from a family meal, I saw him there. Lifeless and stiff on the side of the road, moved to the curb like tomorrow’s recycling pickup.
My heart broke for the cruel ways our lives plow through the spirit of animals. It broke for my friend, with who I shared so many sacred moments.
Was this a sign that there really is no such thing as true nature in Suburbia?
Was this deer’s life supposed to foster meaning within my own?
Or was he just a deer?