The ordinary and the extraordinary

Johanna’s account shows how a simple practice can lead a different quality of attention and to shifts in perception. The world that is ‘barely noticed’ in everyday life appears richer and fuller, not as passive object but as ‘reaching out’. For some, this further shift in perception occurs when extraordinary perception arises alongside the everyday, maybe taking on a mythical quality, as illustrated by Joanna writing of ‘The stranger I will never forget’.

I head out the back door and step off the deck onto the grass. The ground is wet and soggy and my boot sinks into Earth. I look up to absorb the warmth from Sun on my face. I notice that Sky is that beautiful sky blue, with some soft billowing white clouds. It is one of those very few times where reality meets and even exceeds my imagination.

I begin to walk to Pond. It has been a few days since my last visit, so during my walk I think about my last encounter. Jaxon and Molly (dogs) join me on my walk. Except for the soft clink of their tags hitting their collar as they walk, they don’t make a sound.

When I reach Pond, I see that she has two visitors – a pair of Geese that I have seen twice before, but never on Pond. They are on the opposite end of Pond and the male squawks noisily and flaps his wings to let me know that we are seen, he is not happy about our presence, and he is ready to defend. However, they remain on the opposite end, keeping a watchful eye on us, the new visitors.

I sit down on the wooden bench at the edge of Pond. I feel the coldness on my bottom and back legs. I take in the scene before me. Black Walnut, Cedar and Spruce, standing tall and majestic, just waking from their winter slumber. I notice that Pond acts as a mirror, so that as they look down, they can see their image. The tall grass along Pond, is the colour of golden straw, long since died back but still protecting the roots that will soon begin to spring back to life.

I shift my gaze to Pond and say my greetings and offer a dandelion flower that I picked on my walk here. I place the yellow flower on the surface and it slowly glides away, a bright pop of colour. As I sit quietly simply looking at Pond, I notice a pair of eyes and a brown nose, the colour of a twig, staring right at me or at least in my general direction. I blink hard and open my eyes again to make sure I am seeing correctly. I am. I don’t move a muscle and try to figure out what I am seeing. Is it a lizard or snake? The face is long and angular but there doesn’t seem to be a long body attached. Is it a toad? The face doesn’t seem broad enough.

The stranger is not moving. They are not trying to catch flies or insects to eat. They are just being; maybe enjoying the sun, who knows. Do they see me? I sway my body just a whisper and the stranger disappears under the water. Maybe they do see me or at least sense me. A ripple on Pond’s surface is the only evidence of their existence. I continue to sit on the bench, the dandelion flower is now making its way towards the Geese who paddle from side to side of Pond. The male continues to squawk from time to time and continues to be the barrier between me and his mate.

I sit, enjoying the warmth of the sun as I hear Birds chirp, Bull Frog croak and Mosquito buzz close to my ear. This is the language of Pond. I look back down at the water surface and what do I see, the stranger has popped back up, closer to me now. I still can’t identify who this is, but the eyes are staring at me. Possibly curious as to who I am, just as I am curious as to who they are. Or maybe just hanging out at Pond, enjoying the warm spring day, just like me.

I sit there for what seems like hours, but is most likely five minutes, just looking at this stranger, looking at me. Neither of us move. It is like I am captured under this magic spell. I don’t want whatever is happening, this connection I feel, to end. At this moment the stranger, doesn’t feel like a stranger at all.

Mosquito that was buzzing around my ear, finds a place to strike and stings my neck. My hand automatically lifts to squash it. When I look back down at Pond, the stranger is gone.

Afterwards, I searched through pictures to try to find out who that stranger might be. I found nothing familiar. I have never seen the stranger again, but this I know, I will never forget them.

My visit to Pond that day, was the first time that I felt like I was an active member of the community of Pond rather than a visitor. I felt the reciprocity in our relationship, where just like a dance, I felt attuned to my partner – be it the stranger, Geese, and Pond, where together we co-created our unique dance. I never quite saw this relationship before, this awareness that Pond responded to me, just like I responded to Pond. I had often heard the language of Pond, but at this visit, I felt that I was a participant in this language. I must admit that in my inquiry into being in reciprocal participation, I grapple at times with my (the human) role in this relationship for fear of dominance, arrogance, and misunderstanding. However, this experience has opened my eyes to a new understanding of what it means to be in participation. If I show up as a member of the community, if I attend to, listen, notice, and communicate as a community member, I will be shaped and become a part of Pond, just as Pond will be shaped and become a part of me.