the moose in the mud

 

"The clearest way into the universe is through a forest path." 

~John Muir~

I was lucky enough to have been invited to spend last week in a cabin in the Maine woods. My "bucket list" item for the trip was to spot a moose, and I did. But not in the way I had hoped.

My daughter and I set out one evening for a bog that was known by the locals as a good place to watch for moose. We pulled off the road and waited...and waited...and waited. We thought we were seeing a bird flapping its wings every so often, until we realized we were seeing the ears and tail of a moose twitching as she lay in the mud. 

We pulled up closer, and sure enough...there she was, lying in the mud, barely visible. It occurred to us that she might be sick or injured, but she wasn't struggling, or calling out. So we concluded that, like all good mamas, she just needed a little time to herself, and what better place for a moose on a hot day than in a nice cool mud bath. Still, we didn't think it was too much to ask for her to stand up and take a few steps for us, so we whistled at her, clapped our hands, called out to her, and honked at her. We pleaded with her and cajoled her...all to no avail. We gave up as darkness closed in...

"Until one has loved an animal,

a part of one's soul remains unawakened."

~Anatole France~

...but the next morning we were on the road at 5 AM to see if she was still there. Again, it was hard to make her out, but there she was! We stayed with her for an hour, but except for those twitching ears, she didn't move. 

So, we went back that evening, and we were actually relieved to see that she had moved on...that she was OK...until we pulled off the road to turn around. That's when we found her. Dead, in a clearing, with two broken legs. How she managed to get out of the mud and through the underbrush to the clearing I will never understand. The pain. The suffering. We were stunned. Heartbroken. And so, so sad for her.

"May all that have life

be delivered from suffering."

~Buddha~

Why am I sharing this story on a narrative healing blog?

I can't get her off my mind. Perhaps telling her story will help me accept it. Maybe it will serve to caution inattentive or careless drivers. Maybe it will honor her suffering, in some way. 

It makes me wonder how I will bear my own  pain when the time comes. What if I go into heart failure? Or I develop cancer? Or I fall and I can't get up? Will I bear it quietly? Courageously? Patiently? How will I prepare my family for it? 

~Ilan Shamir~

As health care providers, we all witness pain and suffering. We are trained to do whatever we can to relieve it. We all witness death. In some cases, we have time to prepare our patients for it. We are sometimes called to break the news to their families. I held my mother's hand during her last hours, and stayed with her until she took her last breath. She didn't die alone, in pain, to be discovered too late by some passerby.

It makes me wonder how, in that vast wilderness, a solitary moose and a rare passing vehicle happened upon each other that day. Why? What are we meant to learn from this disasterous stroke of synchrony?

It reminds us that we don't always know when someone is suffering. Like the moose in the mud, they may not let it show. 

We are reminded to seek them out. To be patient with them. To be kind and gentle always.

To hold space for them in our hearts when there is nothing we can do to help.

I'm pretty sure the moose just became my spirit animal.

jan