HOW TO LEARN TO BE STILL

Photo by Bill Slavin

Five deer, three adults and two half-grown fawns, stood in our yard next to a window as I came into the kitchen. They could hear the creak of the floor and looked up to stare at me. Their large, deep eyes asked questions about me. I stopped and didn't reach for the faucet. I knew that any noise would startle them away. I watched as one fawn, whose spots had faded from bright white to beige, climb the two steps to our deck to snip off the heads of begonia flowers, flowers that deer usually avoid. We've found that deer don't avoid much during the year though, just thyme and mint. The fawn then stepped into a planter box and chomped on a large foot-wide succulent. She moved with the other deer as they looked for food in the yard until they all found a shady spot, pawed at the ground, and settled down for a nap.

I made my lunch and moved to the dining room. I sat and looked up at one deer watching me. I could see her face between the slats of the chair opposite me. I stared back for a while as I continued eating. The deer never took her eyes off me and eventually, unsettled by my presence even through the glass, rose and nipped at the nandina before turning around and jumping our low fence.

Before I came into the kitchen, I had a million things on my mind, a busy week unfolding, and I was trying to figure out how I was going to manage it all. The deers stopped me, slowed me down as I watched their grace, and gave me the chance to observe their silence. It was like taking a deep breath and meditating.

Photo by Bill Slavin