Sanctuaries for Hunted Animals
Day 3
It took a while before Snake would come. Was I slightly resistant? I wasn’t sure, but when she did appear, she was very thick and immediately I knew she was pregnant. Was this a result of what happened yesterday, or had I gotten her gender wrong and she was always like this? The meditations are developing the edges of a story-line; I must be careful not to impose my version of what’s happening on these experiences.
After poking her head up, she turned back into the water and began lazily circling around beneath the ice as though she was treading water — dancing, curling, twisting, a snake-knot moving in the water. I realized she was playing! There was no overt purpose to her actions. Perhaps the animal kingdom is often in a state of play that we do not recognize. I watched Snake continue her dance for a long time, fascinated by the glimpse of her inner experience.
Then, suddenly, she became straight as an arrow, her whole body tense and long. I thought she was diving but the image was frozen and rigid. I kept breathing, remembering to let her be safe within my gaze, then the word “hunted” came to mind. Suddenly I knew what I was being shown: first the state of innocence, then the tension of not feeling safe, followed by the terror of being hunted. Coldly. Deliberately. Appreciating that animals know when they are not safe, I felt my own hyper-alertness, an instinctual fear response that could either freeze all movement or launch me into flight. I ached, thinking of tribes in Africa hunted by the Boko Haram, realizing that, all over the world, people are being hunted like animals.
As I kept my gaze soft, watching to see what would unfold, Snake began to slip away to the north end of the pond. She deliberately avoided most of the perimeter, as though she was keenly aware of where she could go and where it was not safe. I felt a great sadness and, as she slowly came back to the surface, I greeted her gently. Putting my hands around her head, I looked into her eyes and said, I’m sorry, so, so sorry.
I felt the hugely compromising adjustment animals have to make to constantly deal with fear. Along with this awareness, I also had an image of how oasis sanctuaries could be immensely comforting for their psyches, regardless of whether they had physical access to such places or if the connection was merely telepathic. In the meditation, I felt wild animals might be able to instinctively feel and access some of the energy of a humanly-created sanctuary. For instance, an elephant in Africa might be aware that an animal oasis, in the truest sense of the word, was operational in California, and receive some comfort through this connection. I speculate, but in the moment, it didn’t feel far-fetched.