In the afternoon I walked Anna, our dog, down
to the river and as we made our way back up the hill a loud
rustling of leaves caught my attention. I looked and could see what
appeared to be an injured mallard, flapping one wing and hopping away from
us as fast as she could go, which wasn't very fast. Naturally, this
attracted Anna's attention as well and as she fought the leash to get a
closer look, about a dozen ducklings scurried out of the underbrush,
chasing after their mother. By now it was apparent to me that the
mother duck had faked her injury to distract us from her nest. I have seen killdeer do the same thing.
I think sometimes we humans do this, too. When we birth something precious, like a child, or an idea, or a dream, we can take extreme measures to protect it.
Sometimes that creative spark within us seems too fragile to expose. We would rather "fake an injury" than share our dreams with anyone. "I'm too this, or too that, to pursue my dream," we might say to ourselves. The interior critic is loud enough -- why risk hearing the criticism of others?
Or we protest, "They won't let me!" Just who are "they" anyway? And why do we give them so much power over our lives?
What we need is a safe place where we can give voice to our dreams, where we can find encouragement to allow fledgling ideas to take shape and grow until we are ready to put them "out there." We all need an inner-life sanctuary.
Mimi Weaver
Richmond, VA
June 2007
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