The Squirrel and Aspen Tree
A reflection from my Wilderness Dance Vision Quest
When it comes to contemplative prayer, I am merely just a beginner. After being introduced to it only a few years ago, I still have much to learn (and unlearn). Even though few if any words are uttered, the practicing of this type of prayer is difficult. I think in part it's because of the challenge it is to stay in the moment, dismissing everything else, so we can “be” in God’s presence. There have been many times when it feels as though God is not there and nothing is happening (even though that certainly wasn't the case). However, there are occasions when God does make His presence known, when He does break the silence. I had one such experience this past summer while on a vision quest (VQ).
Let me set things up: The VQ was scheduled for mid-July in south central Colorado. The idea was to spend four days / three nights, alone in the wilderness with nothing but water and basic shelter, and then to wait and listen for God to show up in whatever capacity He might choose. A VQ is similar to contemplative prayer in that space we create is for God’s presence. Obviously, God being God, all we can do is ask for His presence but there are no guarantees.
In order to prepare for our time alone in the wilderness, the team running the VQ provided 28 consecutive daily meditations, prayers, and prompts for consideration. When it was time depart, I drove rather than take a flight from my home in Florida to Colorado. Before being sent out on the VQ, we spent Sunday night and all-day Monday as a group making last minute preparations. In total, there were six support staff and six “questers”. Our time alone on the mountain would be from Tuesday morning through Friday morning.
We were given instructions that when we “found” our VQ campsite, or better yet when the site found us, to remain there within a fairly small radius for all four days. We were also given a few hours Monday afternoon to hike up the mountain and to find and mark our spot so we could go straight to it Tuesday morning.
Everything went as planned. After hiking for a while and rejecting the first few spots I came too, the perfect location presented itself. It was in the middle of nowhere (i.e. no people!), with beautiful views from all directions, level ground, and two medium pine trees perfectly spaced to run a ridge line to support my tarp. I couldn’t wait to get back Tuesday morning to set up camp and start my VQ.
“God’s first language is Silence. Everything else is a translation.”
After setting up camp, I remember standing there and thinking “Ok, now what?” (It’s amazing how much external stimuli we use to fill our thoughts and time, and how unnerving it is when it’s absent.) I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening just sitting in my camp chair gazing at the beauty, the trees, sky and clouds, and at the brilliant stars that came out that night. I stayed up as long as possible until I could no longer keep my eyes open. At last I turned over in my sleeping bag beneath my tarp thankful for this a good day.
Early the next morning I was awakened by what sounded like footsteps. I rolled to my side and focused my eyes. There I saw a lone hiker strolling close to my camp. I was a little annoyed because I had hoped not to see another human for four days. It was still fairly early, so I just stayed in my bag a while longer. About a half hour later another hiker went by in almost the same spot as the first hiker. Now I’m irritated but held on to some hope that this was just a fluke. Nevertheless about an hour later three hikers — three! — came wandering by.
I realized I couldn't ignore all the foot traffic and had to investigate what was going on. I discovered that I had inadvertently set up my camp just a stone’s throw from the main trail head. To put it mildly I was upset. What had started out as a great start to the VQ was now an unmitigated disaster. That’s when my very skillful and ruthless inner critic showed up. “You’re such an effing idiot! How could you not see or notice you were so close to the trail‽ You’re incompetent! You’ve wasted all this time, money, effort, and preparation to do something so stupid! Why didn’t you just make the effort to find a better spot‽”
Finally I resolved myself to go looking for a new campsite far away from the trail. I wanted to redeem myself and my VQ. After a lengthy hike and search I couldn't find a suitable spot and returned to my original site. I had no idea what to do. I felt like Charlie Brown with the rain cloud over his head with it raining only on me. Dejectedly I plopped down in my camp chair to consider what I should do next.
It was only about 10am. The two options I thought I had were to try once again to find a new spot. I knew this would take valuable time away from why I had come in the first place (to focus on God not me). My second option was to stay put and be constantly interrupted and irritated by hikers. I didn’t like either choice. Thus my mood worsened.
“It is to this silence [contemplative prayer] that we all are called.”
As I sat there dejected, feeling worse and worse, I heard the words, “Accept this, it’ll be ok!” This voice wasn’t me or my inner critic, it was someone else. Then I heard it again, “Accept this, it’ll be ok!” Now I had a choice to make, to continue listening to my critic and focus only on my ego, or I could trust this new voice. As soon as I stopped listening to my inner critic and accepted things as they were, things began to change.
As I was sitting in my chair facing North, a brown squirrel came running down a pine tree about 10 yards in front of me. It stopped and perched on the lowest branch at about eye level. And while looking at me it proceeded to vigorously flick its tail and squeak loudly. It sounded more like it was yelling. Clearly the squirrel had something to say!
Eventually I said hello and told the squirrel I understood this was his home and that I was only visiting. I asked if it would be ok if I stayed for a few days. The squirrel stopped squeaking, flicked its tail once or twice, then jumped off the perch and disappeared. It seemed to me the squirrel agreed. I had permission.
“In contemplative prayer we seek to become the person we are called to be, not by thinking of God, but by being with God. Simply to be with God is to be drawn into being the person God calls us to be.”
While watching the squirrel scamper off, I noticed an aspen tree lit up by the sun. It was a rather large aspen with a full canopy. The sun was behind me and hit the leaves just right causing it to look like green fire. The leaves were dancing and flickering in the breeze. I was mesmerized. The shaking and quivering reminded me of what my boyhood German Shepherd used to do when I came home from school. He would be so happy to see me that he would squirm and shake his whole body with excitement. Was that what God was saying to me now? It felt like He was saying “I’ve been waiting for you for so long. I’m so glad you’re here, I’m so glad you’re here, I’m so glad you’re here!” This manifestation of God's love just undid me. So I sat there with tears streaming down my cheeks.
I spent the remainder of my time in the wilderness pondering my encounter with God’s love, giving thanks and being open to the many ways God speaks through His creation. One of the deepest emotions I had while out there was a strong sense of belonging. As mentioned at the start of my reflection, when it comes to contemplative prayer and the practice of being in the moment, I’m just a beginner. I’m not even sure how to bring this commentary to a conclusion other than to say that having encountered God in this way, my life will never be the same.
