"One has not only an ability to perceive the world, but an ability to alter one's perception of it; more simply, one can change things by the manner in which one looks at them."
Tom Robbins
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| Sometimes a rope is just a rope |
One of my master yoga teachers,
Joseph LePage, likes to illustrate a certain teaching on reactivity that goes
like this. If, in the process of
daily life, you come across a long slender, curved, dark shape on the ground,
you might jump. Your primitive
brain screams “danger” and then of course you will react quickly and leap away
from the potentially dangerous snake on your path. But
then the snake turns out to be a rope. And then he laughs and says, “Sometimes a rope is just a rope.” My dear yogi friend Nancy, also present at this training,
later sends me multiple you tube videos and photographs of all sorts of
surprising and startling snakes. Always with the message, “and sometimes a rope is really a snake,
especially in Tucson.” We like to
laugh about this a lot because being denizens of the desert we actually do see a lot of
critters on a regular basis, including many snakes both venomous and
non-venomous.
I see around 50 snakes most years,
so for me learning to quickly make the assessment of rope or snake can be
life-saving. I have sometimes
leapt twenty feet straight up in the air when coming across a well-camouflaged
rattlesnake on the path just inches away.
I can scream like a girl, and sometimes do. But I always try to keep a
little dignity around the rope vs. snake conundrum. There are still plenty of
ropes in my life.
I was recently in Colorado helping
my daughter Isabella to get settled in her new home as she prepared for veterinary
school. During the two weeks I was
there, I spent most days zipping along Ft. Collin’s many dedicated paths on a
bike my son Jackson made, practical, light, and perfect for exploring. These paths weave through Ft. Collins
and even into neighboring towns creating perfect connectivity for the many
citizens who wish to eschew cars entirely and ride or walk everywhere: school, work, shopping,
micro-breweries, farmer’s markets and more.
One morning, Isabella and I were
happily zipping along the Spring Creek Trail, a beautiful wooded trail flanked
by a large stream and many wildflowers, set among occasional subdivisions and
apartment complexes. She was
lumbering along behind on our old trusty purple steed, 35 pounds of
comfortable, yet heavy bicycle.
All of a sudden I saw it. There was a large black snake, head
lifted in a menacing position. I
screeched to a halt and started jumping and waving to my daughter, “Stop, stop, stop, snake, snake,
snake.” It’s important to relate
here that I would have happily stopped for any snake, just to check it out and
take a photo, but in this instance I was filled with fear and became shaky with
a huge infusion of adrenaline.
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| Trusting our intuition can keep us safe |
I crept closer and decided that, no matter how
improbable that a cobra could in northern Colorado, this was indeed the real
deal. Other bikers stopped on the
path and we mutually wondered what was the best course of action. It was decided that this was probably a
release or even escape of someone who kept (illegal) exotic reptiles and it was
best to call the police, lest someone be fatally bitten. We were told by the police dispatcher to
contact the animal control authorities and then while getting stuck in an
infuriating loop of button pressing and automated messages, continued to assess
the situation.
A number of people passed, with great fear and trepidation, carefully walking past on the far side of the track. A mother with two young children appeared positively panicked. Finally, when there were only three of us left, the man next to us said, “Hmmm, is it really real?” We admitted that we had entertained that idea but when I said, “Who wants to test this theory?” No one volunteered. We considered some more. Discussed it with care. Finally he tossed a small pebble in the direction of the snake, we smiled with huge relief, as it hadn’t moved. The next test was to hit the snake directly, and again, we looked at each other with a lot of anxiety. Could we trust our own perceptions? It looked so real. It’s texture perfect. Not knowing the habits of Indian Cobras we hesitated. Finally, backing up and holding breath, we tossed another larger rock and laughed hilariously when it bounced off the rubber back.
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| Our perceptions can be wrong |
Isabella picked up the snake and stuffed it into her backpack. We didn’t
want anyone else to get a scare, and noted how grateful we were that no
authorities had responded. As we
prepared to ride away, two small heads popped up on the play structure in the
back yard we were near and said “You’re not taking it are you?” We had been pranked so thoroughly and
so well that we opted to give it back and tossed it to the young boys waiting.
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| Feeling sheepish but happy |
And then began a long and ongoing
conversation about the accuracy of our perceptions, the nature of reality, and
the power of fear. The thing is,
we both really love seeing snakes in our world, whether docile or venomous. We
find that they are fascinating creatures worthy of our attention, admiration,
and even protection. We had both studied herpetology both formally and informally and thought we had a grasp on all things snakey. Those attitudes colored this meeting to such a degree that we were unable to see the naked
truth in front of us. Our
certainty that an impossible cobra could land on a bike path in the temperate
US was strong enough to then color the perceptions of everyone we met as their
fear became provoked in such a novel way.
How often do we let our self be swayed by our own longings and cravings,
projecting our desires onto the world, seeing only what we want to see? Sometimes a rope is just a rope,
or in this case, a very realistic toy but still a fake.
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| The Real Deal |
Within another 20 minutes we came
across a truly real and fully alive 3 foot long Gopher Snake crossing our path.
We reveled in the imperfections and beauty of this animal and felt amazement
once again, at how we duped ourselves with excitement and fear.
Later, I had a chance to test again
my perceptions and intuition within the dominant culture of fear we inhabit,
deciding once again, is it a snake or is it a rope? It was early evening on the Poudre Trail bike path, a
marvelous trail through the endless green of forests and streams leading to the
eastern edge of Ft. Collins. I had
felt the need to be alone and asked Isabella to meet me later. I sat on a bench by a pond and
proceeded to sob my heart out. I
had been overcome with surprising grief over a relationship that had ended recently, and while I
tried to be discreet, in the end, I was found out. I saw a young man in jeans and a t-shirt ride by on his bike
and then turn back towards me. He
got off his bike and said to me “Would you like a hug?” And in that moment the decades of “Beware
of Strange Men” conditioning flashed through me and just as quickly dissipated
as I checked my intuition and knew that all was well. I nodded yes, and he came over and gave
me a long gentle hug that felt sweet and safe, saying, “You look as if you feel
the way I do”. Do you know the experience
of being so abjectly sad that having even a little sympathy or a single touch,
can loose the floodgates of your misery?
This is what happened for me as I sobbed in a stranger’s arms. Eventually, I said “thank you, thank
you, thank you.” He asked if I
wanted to talk and when I said no, he hopped on his bike and road away. It was a moment of pure golden human
interaction at it’s best and in that instant my grief was released and I knew that, with people such as
this inhabiting my world, every single thing would be ok.
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| Why not? |
I am left pondering a number of
questions: What if we all became
more adept at determining what is a snake and what is a rope on our daily
paths? What if, instead of
choosing fear, we choose instead curiosity, trust and faith? Where do we allow ourselves to be unconsciously
subverted to the darkness of our collective human experiences instead of being
drawn into the light? How can one
person make a difference for another person by simply providing loving
presence?
As you go about your day, traveling
the roads, sidewalks, phone lines, and bike paths of your life I encourage you
to invoke your perception wisely, choose your reality carefully, and trust your intuition completely.
Namaste,
Felicia
