Don’t Help Me. Please.
I was driving home with my daughter when we noticed a large snapping turtle crossing the roadway. It was a tiny back street lined with a small pond.
I was driving home with my daughter when we noticed a large snapping turtle crossing the roadway.
It was a tiny back street lined with a small pond on one side and the forest on the other. As we drove by, he settled down just a foot into the road. Hanging out there as if it were a rest stop. Right in the path of the cars cutting through our neighborhood at rush hour – blowing through the stop sign in order to cut a moment from their commute.
“Not happening!” I said as I pulled the car over.
“We are moving that turtle before he gets crushed,” I declared. I bounded from the car as my daughter muttered “Oh, here we go.” I carried my umbrella as a prodding agent which was totally unhelpful as it popped open immediately, rendering it useless. (More eye rolls from you know who. I might have even added a few myself as I looked quite ridiculous).
I found another totally inadequate stick which left us just staring at a magnificent, prehistoric looking turtle wondering what to do next.
We knew enough not to go near the front of him. They call them snapping turtles for a reason. While my daughter longed to pick him up and carry him, I had visions of her dropping him in the moment of a freakout. Nope. Meanwhile, he was resting as if he had all the time in the world and wasn’t facing imminent death (okay … I exaggerate).
A car pulled up and an older man asked if we were okay.
Explaining our predicament, he enthusiastically jumped out of his SUV with a golf umbrella as if he were going to single handedly rescue all of us. We were in business. He tapped him gently and the giant turtle stirred and tipped to one side. I knew if we could gently tap his other side, he would start to rise up and walk. Which he did.
Our rescuer got so excited he went around to take a photo for his grandkids.
And down went the turtle.
Dropping down at the sight of a looming threat …. a 6 foot gentle giant with a camera. Things worsened quickly when the giant decided to tap the turtle more strongly on the back of his shell with his foot. My kid and I exchanged a look.
Now we were party to traumatizing this magnificent creature instead of saving him.
With that final insult, “Snappy” promptly lumbered up onto the grass in the direction of the pond and hunkered down. He looked our way as if daring us to come near him. Fearing that our foot tapping savior could not curb his enthusiasm, we declared our effort a success. I mentioned I had to run out to the store in a bit and would check to make sure he hadn’t ventured back into harm’s way again. This gave us all permission to end our rescue mission.
Mind you, not one car had careened around that corner during our dramatic interlude.
“Well that went well.” stated you know who. A bit later I headed out to the store and was alert as I fully stopped at the corner stop sign. Scanning the grass to the right, I noticed the area was totally free of that huge turtle. The reason?
He was lumbering across the street toward the woods.
As turned the corner, I watched as he settled down into his protective position – shell to the ground – right in the middle of oncoming traffic in the other direction. Wiser now, I slowly rolled past him as if he wasn’t there. Hoping I wouldn’t see him crushed on my return trip, I had a revelation.
It occurred to me that he had probably crossed that road many times before I ever met him. This certainly wasn’t his first adventure.
After all he was a mature turtle, not some tiny little thing out on his first independent stroll. He had to have some skill to have made it this far in a residential neighborhood. Perhaps I had confused my concern with his need for rescue. Now who was rolling her eyes?
I got to wondering about all the times my intent to be helpful may have actually diverted someone from their intended path.
How I made the assumption that someone needed rescuing when Life was offering them what they required in that moment.
It isn’t the first time I’ve stopped my car to turn around a turtle. Let’s just say I have a history of such behavior. Now, before I move in to help, I pause. I become curious. I wonder what Life might already be doing before I assume my role within the story.
I didn’t see Snappy on the way home, but that didn’t surprise me.
He had already taught me what I needed to know. I was grateful and wiser as a result of our encounter. I figured he had lumbered off to teach some other well meaning, silly human.
Peace be with you and with all. No exceptions.
Learn the one essential skill that allows you to face any challenge with confidence, sturdiness, and inner calm.
More than a technique. It’s a game changer.
I was driving home with my daughter when we noticed a large snapping turtle crossing the roadway. It was a tiny back street lined with a small pond.
I recently found myself thinking about activism. About the many ways we show up for what matters to us.
As I considered this, three memories arrived. Rapidly, as if they were part of my contemplation.
The first was a conversation I had with a woman in my town. She was giving me an update on her recent gathering with other mothers protesting against gun violence. I was interested as we had explored what mattered to her as she approached retirement. Protecting children in schools and on street corners mattered, so she joined with other moms who cared about the same.
Three months ago, I unexpectedly entered into a relationship with a horse.
I met Zor during a visit to Liberty Stables in Florida, where I had gone to spend time with a friend’s horses. I had no particular expectations. I have no background with horses, no training, and no experience in equine-assisted therapy. I simply met this magnificent Friesian, and something quietly familiar unfolded between us.
I fell in love.
Eight years ago, I traveled to Costa Rica for a week-long retreat centered around ayahuasca, breathwork, yoga, and deep inner exploration.
Like many people who are drawn to these experiences, I went seeking something. You might call it a Divine encounter. You might call it awakening. You might call it healing.
I wasn’t entirely sure what I was looking for. I only knew there seemed to be a place people spoke about. That place beyond ordinary life.
The women who arrive in my classes, retreats, and therapy sessions are sincerely looking for healing, expansion, clarity, or sometimes just a little room to breathe.
They are thoughtful women, deeply engaged with the people and work they love. Rarely do they arrive because they want another spiritual philosophy. Most are carrying something much more ordinary.
A life that has become full. Beautiful in many ways, but crowded.
About twenty-five years ago, I was driving with a colleague to a local conference. As we approached the hotel entrance, I noticed an open parking spot near the front door.
“There’s a spot,” I said, pointing to the right. He drove past it.
A few seconds later, another one appeared. He drove past that one, too. Then I pointed to a third. “There’s a spot.” Without the slightest hesitation, Dan replied, “I’ll leave that for someone else.”