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.
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.
There are conversations you may instinctively avoid. Death. Dying. The journey beyond are among them. The final exhale. The closing of the body. The long walk home. The next place of being. In many ancient traditions, this is not an ending, but a sacred passage—a birth into new realms of being. Yet here, in this fast-moving world, death often remains veiled in silence, wrapped in fear, and avoided in conversation.
It’s uncomfortable feeling the darkness within the belly, leaking into the day. The waking to news that frightens, angers, and confuses you. This world gone astray.
I got my wings today. No bell chimed. No angelic harmony resounded. They were just handed to me.
My husband and I drove separately to the Philadelphia airport in the pouring rain to pick up our guests from Peru.
As I climbed the hills in the Sacred Valley, every step was a prayer of gratitude. Pausing often to catch my breath in the high altitude, I drank in the beauty of the mountains, valleys, small towns, and roaming llamas.
