Befriending the Deer

The bright summer leaves filter the harsh sunlight, casting dancing shadow sprites across the leaf litter. Tiny moss hands reach upward seeking the center of the galaxy. My feet find a faint thoroughfare between the trees.

At first I see only her color, tawny, almost orange amongst the ocean of greens. Then her shape, a block of horizontal color among the spines of tall trees. I stop. Still. Breath held in as my brain grasps her eyes, ears and delicate deer nose. She sees me too.

I freeze, in awe at her wild beauty, at my good fortune to come across her so close to me. She freezes too. I see her nostrils flare as she takes me in from behind the undergrowth.

What does she see?

Front-facing predator eyes. A smell that portends death.

I remain frozen in an attempt to draw out the moment, to revel in the awe of her wildness. I want to drink from the fountain of raw, primal, nature, quenching my yearning for this simplicity.

She remains frozen I guess to draw out the moment while she plans her escape from my hungry stare. I have no plan to harvest her skin or flesh but does my thirst for her wild, free, life, eat at her soul?

She seems to sense the quivering in my mind. In a move I could not tell happened, she's facing in exactly the opposite direction, white tail lifted as she bounds away. With my last ravishing gaze I see her tiny fawn, maybe days old, at her heel.

Another wave of wonder washes through my body, followed by sorrow that she and I will never be friends, and the frustration of being misunderstood. I mean her no harm.

Continuing along the path I visit the frightened deer inside me. The one who shies away from the slightest potential threat, heading for the safe retreat of the dark woods. I've put some time in with this one, taken hours to sit down, be still and patiently wait for her to come to me.

When she comes I let her know I don't need anything from her, she doesn't need to change, become bolder, put herself in situations that don't feel safe. We have others in the internal landscape for that - the dogs make themselves known enthusiastically.

I offer her grain from my hand this inner deer, making sure to hold it very still and to my side, save she perceive it as a trap. I let her eat without asking for anything in return. I offer her a gentle song and a peaceful heart.

Sometimes she'll let her muzzle linger in my hand, in a gesture I could interpret as a nuzzle but I'm careful not to reach back too fast. I want her to feel me reciprocate but it not be a hungry grasp.

I regret, momentarily, that I have created a life that doesn't afford me the time I assume it would take it sit out in the woods and make friends with a wild deer. Maybe when I'm very old and the world has no use for me anymore...

For now, I know that gentleness I have learned offer my inner deer ripples out into the human world. I trust that I can offer guidance to those I meet along the way who seem to be stalking their inner deer in an attempt to change them into a wolf.

What is your relationship with your inner deer?

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Many old tales from the Celtic lands feature deer. One of my favorites is the Dream Makers from the Isle of Skye in Scotland. You can listen here: