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.
He had probably commuted that route hundreds of times without incident.
After all he was a huge 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 he wasn’t so helpless just because he was a turtle who lived near humans and their roads. 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.
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. In the future, however, I may tune in first to my inner wisdom and have a chat with the turtle or whatever creature it may be (human included). Rather than immediately jump in as helper, perhaps I will see if it serves to help or will only slow the progress of the intended journey.
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.
When to help and when to sit back as witness? With so much suffering in the world, you feel called to improve the lives of others. Hard to know what helps and what doesn’t. The book, Toxic Charity, sheds insight into the disempowering effects of well meaning aid to others. Creating sustainable change which respects and empowers not only the person or community, but the gains achieved through struggle, is an art form. Exploring the personal reasons for helping as well as deep listening to a community’s needs goes a long way to discern if, when, and how to offer your service. Empowering growth and self sufficiency.
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.
ia Sophia has arrived. This “Way of Wisdom” offers an invitation to step upon a Living Spiral Path and discover a new understanding of what it means to embody the Mystical Feminine.
For the past fifteen years I have lived and taught within the Mystical Feminine. I have sat within many circles and immersions with women as we explored how to practically and powerfully engage Feminine wisdom in everyday life.
When my daughter was in eighth grade, she and her Girl Scout troop were beginning to explore ideas for their individual Silver Award projects.
Around our dinner table, we tossed around possibilities. Nothing landed. Nothing stirred real interest. So we encouraged her to do what we have always trusted. Stay open. Listen. Pay attention to what people are talking about in the world.
Driving into Soul Sanctuary last weekend, I noticed the trees were engaged in a wild dance.
I should have paid closer attention as I got out of the car, because the wind nearly took me with it. Walking to the door, I had to lean in and brace myself for a moment just to stay upright. The cold whipped through my clothes and found every uncovered space, sharing its bone-numbing chill.
We recently had a big snow in my neck of the woods.
Everyone was hunkered down. The fridge was full, chicken soup was bubbling on the stove, and my book pile sat patiently on the coffee table. As the snow covered the neighborhood and the plows dumped fresh mounds over our carefully shoveled walk, we took turns peeking outside.
As a kid, snowstorms were pure joy.
“I think we need to be friends.”
Those were the first words out of my mouth when I introduced myself to Rev. Hilda Covington. We’d just finished a county meeting of nonprofit mental health and social service agencies. She was the presenter that month. We almost didn’t meet because Hilda arrived an hour and a half late to a two-hour meeting.
Life has a rhythm. It speeds up and slows down according to mysterious forces.
Your personal rhythm dances with the celestial bodies, seasons of the year, developmental phases, and the pulse of your Soulful evolutionary process. Living in harmony with these rhythms is in many ways hard to understand as it is a complicated and deeply personal process. Your rhythm dances with everyone’s rhythm in the grand Cosmic Dance.
