…And what we see is a world that cannot cherish us,
but which we cherish.
And what we see is our life moving like that
along the dark edges of everything,
headlights sweeping the blackness,
believing in a thousand fragile and unprovable things.
Looking out for sorrow,
slowing down for happiness,
making all the right turns
right down to the thumping barriers to the sea,
the swirling waves,
the narrow streets, the houses,
the past, the future,
the doorway that belongs
to you and me.
~Mary Oliver, excerpt ‘Coming Home’

It started out as an ordinary day. I had completed the majority of tasks on my ‘to do’ list and run the errands that needed attention. So, I decided to treat myself to a cup of coffee and some time with a book I was reading at my local coffee shop. I was reading away when I saw a young man lift his phone toward the crossroads just outside the window. The woman with him was also looking and soon two other people in nearby chairs were doing the same. I followed their lead to see a male deer standing at the corner as if waiting for the light to change, his antlers held high. But, of course, he was not waiting. He was trying to make sense of where he was and how to escape the predicament in which he found himself. Cars slowed, stopped, watched, drivers likely pulling out their phones as well, as we all watched this beautiful, huge animal try to make his way to safety. I held my breath hoping he wouldn’t try to cross at an inopportune time and be hit by a surprised motorist who had been paying less attention than they might have. Soon we all watched as the beautiful, brown animal jumped across the street and headed toward the nearby park and the woods and the river that lay beneath. We all breathed a sigh of relief. An accident had been averted, one in which we would have all been helpless bystanders.

Not long after I was sitting in my living room and there was an urgent knock on the door. I opened it to a man who said there was a runaway dog that he had corralled in my backyard. The man seemed so caring and shared that he had recently had to put his own dog down after it had become ill. I could see the concern and grief lined on his face. I went to the backyard to see this sweet, young black lab bouncing about and trying to figure out either his luck in finding freedom or his fear in the danger of being loose in a world without his caring owners. I tried to remain as calm as possible and slowly the dog came to me and I talked to him and we were able to read the tags on his collar. After some time of quiet talking, he allowed  the man to hold his collar while I fetched some rope to create a leash. Calls to the vet on his tags soon had him reunited with his owners. I then learned that ‘he’ was really a ‘she’ and his owners had been frantically searching for their beloved pet. 

These two experiences had me thinking about the fragility of life. A deer misplaced, a dog lost, confronted with what can be a harsh world. Certainly over the last months, years now really, we have become aware of the fragility each of us wears like a scratchy sweater. Mostly we don’t want to think about it, this fragile, precarious nature of our living. But then there is an illness, an injury, a virus, a mistake, a loss, a death, a broken bone or heart, and we are propelled into the truth of our own fragility. Things can change in a moment and what was will never be again. Circumstances arise and we are called upon to see the world with new eyes, a fresh perspective, often without really wanting to. We find ourselves ‘believing in a thousand fragile and unprovable things.’

What does it mean to live with all this? How do we continue to put one foot in front of the other and show up in this life for which we have been blessed to have another day?  Perhaps it starts with tenderness toward all living beings and, especially, ourselves. This might be followed by offering grace upon grace, forgiveness even when carrying a grudge seems so much easier and fulfilling. All this might be held in the precious knowledge that ‘we are all just walking each other home’ as Ram Dass said with such wisdom. That goes for the two legged and the four legged, those with wings and fins, those with limbs and petals. And, of course, our dear Earth home. That we are linked through invisible lines of connection in this Universe can help us each remember to walk gently, care deeply speak compassionately, as we help build a nest for all the fragile creatures.