.....mine

Yogis,
I had just returned from a visit to the creek. As I usually do, I wandered into the backyard with Phoebe to do a quick check in. The crows were squawking and leaves were floating gracefully down to rest on the grass. Peaceful as always…..until the calm was broken by a man’s voice from the house on the other side of our ravine.

“GET OUT OF MY YARD RIGHT NOW,” he screamed in a deep angry voice and even though there was quite a bit of distance between us, he was so worked up that it sounded as if he was right next to me. I could imagine steam coming out of his ears. What on earth could be there that would cause him to be so enraged? I see something run.

Silence. I can see his figure through the trees move back toward his house so Phoebe and I head into the woods and down the hill. My first thought was that it was a dog. What if it is lost? Or maybe a fox. We get to the bottom and can hear rustling in the bamboo. We wait patiently. I finally see movement in a clearing. A baby deer passes, followed by her mom.

I personally can’t imagine having that visceral of a reaction to deer, regardless of what they had been doing, and since it is safe to assume they weren’t attacking him, they must have been having their lunch in his garden. And he didn’t want them in ‘my yard’.

My yard.  Is it? Are those lines we draw real?

Mine is a funny concept. Yes, there were some pieces of paper shuffled back and forth between humans, with lawyers (simply other humans) verifying that yes, you own your land. But did the deer who has lived there her entire life have a say? Did the sun who shines faithfully on the front window each morning at dawn give its seal of approval? Did the earth worm committee down below have a time period for comments? And does this mean I own the squirrel who is hunkered down in her nest up above?

This property is not mine. In reality nothing is ‘mine’. An illusion. Not the house I live in or the yard it sits on. Not the clothes in my closet or even the body that is currently inside some of them. Even that will eventually have to be given back. Everything we believe we own is only passing through, allowing us to use it for some period of time, until we don’t. Impermanence.

When we believe something is ours it then requires us to watch it, hold on to it and protect it from being taken. ‘Mine’ creates attachment, fear, worry…….and as witnessed, even intense rage at a baby deer.

Wars are fought, friendships are broken, money is spent, all to hold onto what we insist is ours. But nothing is mine. When we can embrace this truth we become free.

As I was laying in savasana on the deck I gazed up into the trees. I watched the cloud formations float by and felt a breeze brush across my face. How could I possible ever own them. They too aren’t mine. It’s more likely that I am theirs.

Grateful for the presence of all that surrounds me at this moment.

It is home, but it isn’t mine,
SARAH