…I was eleven years old and living in the country/woods of Colville, WA, surrounded by Evergreens, deer, coyotes, farm dogs, kittens and our flock of bantam chickens, how content I was to explore the huge forest world with my friends and my little brother. We were small. There was no internet, no t.v. and one radio in the house- a boom box really. I ate my information through experiences of trial and error, and through books. I devoured books. There were some novels and stories I can still feel in my teeth I read them so hungrily and often.
I don't remember much about my time between eleven and fourteen. Chickens came and went. My best deer friend, Spring gave birth to two babies and I named one of them Summer. Summer's twin didn't make it till Fall and I don't remember why. I do remember the feeling of Spring, momma-deer, and her nose, warm and leathery in the palm of my hand. She would come up with her herd in the dusky evening and peer through our big front windows. I would know then to grab the corn and grains we'd gotten for deer food and dash outside to hand feed her. Most of the rest of the herd kept a solid three to five foot distance from my enthusastic adolescent self- but not Spring. She, with her left ear holding a large gunshot punched scar, would come right up to me as if she were a horse. She wanted her treats and she wanted them now.
I loved that deer quite a bit. She taught me patience with wild things reaps immense rewards. (Spring actually gifted me with my ABSOLUTE favorite childhood memory.) She taught me being gentle and steady with others teaches them to trust you. She also taught me that predators and prey can spend time together if neither of them are hungry. There was so much I learned from my time spent with the deer herd in the woods in Washington that I often take for granted the way I interact with animals, small children, and adults who need a more quiet approach. I just, love them.
Do you see how I used the writing technique: “I remember, I don't remember, I remember, I don't remember?”
I will be playing with teaching using stories and storytelling over the next year and I want to offer that quiet teaching to you and to your heart. This style of teaching has centuries of preambles through our DNA and when we access other people's stories, it reminds us of our own. Let my stories and my thoughts remind you of yours.
If something I create inspires you, yes, of course share it with others, because that's how everything organic grows, but- more importantly, let it influence you. Let your heart beat pour out and engage with what my story brings up in your story. In your memories, in your own style.
Write it down. All of us are story tellers and I want you to be engaged and receptive to being as fully alive as possible in your life.