I stare amazed out my window at the ingenuity and tenaciousness of squirrels attempting to retrieve the treats I leave for the birds. I see them plotting on branches, staring down their next move like a furry swat team ready to retrieve their elusive convict. I stand up in rage as one of my window feeders hangs by a thread as the weight of the squirrel topples it to one side. Rushing out the back door, I tell our German Shepherd, “Get the squirrel!” and she races towards the fence as I balance on our wood pile to reaffix the feeder into place. I return to the house with an air of satisfaction mixed with fear, knowing I will do this same song and dance again. Even with the obstacles I make out of bird wire, they only seem to slow the descent of squirrels for a moment; they are clever creatures. Their need for survival is strong and my makeshift obstacles are only a minor deterrent. Perhaps, I should feed them too with a few ears of corn instead of fighting them, I think. But I am afraid of their ravenous hunger and a few kernels won’t survive the scurry.
Something you may not know about squirrels is they have individual personalities and it doesn’t necessarily depend upon breed. Some squirrels are timid, content to stick with a small range for foraging and survival, while other squirrels are bold, taking risks to get the substance and protection they need. I think my squirrels are the bad-ass types that forage our backyard even when they know a large shepherd could race towards them at a moment’s notice. They’re survivors and perhaps I should be more impressed with their bold personalities but in honesty, I’d rather have shy squirrels I could sweet talk out of a tree for a treat and feel a bit of pride in gaining their trust. But these are not my squirrels. My furry friends are a nuisance, an unwelcome presence in my life I have little to no control over. They come crashing in whenever they damn please and I can’t do a single thing about it unless I want to stop feeding the birds altogether.
Welcoming the unwanted
A while back I wrote about the spiritual practice of the Welcoming Prayer. Though I forget this practice more often than I remember it, each time it comes to mind, it becomes a powerful force in so many ways. The practice of welcoming reality as it is and not as we want it frees us from the anxiety of control. Because let’s face it, we don’t have much control over what comes our way in this life and the energy we use to fight against our reality only heightens our already exhausted souls. When I say this prayer to myself, especially in the midst of frustration and pain, I can physically feel my body relax. There is movement in this prayer that grabs my strategic, anxious mind in both hands and rocks me back into a calmer state of rest.
Take a moment to read this prayer through a couple of times.
Welcome, welcome, welcome.
I welcome everything that comes to me today because I know it’s for my healing.
I welcome all thoughts, feelings, emotions, persons, situations, and conditions.
I let go of my desire for power and control.
I let go of my desire for affection, esteem, approval, and pleasure.
I let go of my desire for survival and security.
I let go of my desire to change any situation, condition, person, or myself.
I open to the love and presence of God and God’s action within.
Amen.
It seems silly to apply the spiritual practice of the Welcoming Prayer in my battle with squirrels. They are just squirrels, Colette. But they aren’t really. They seem to symbolize any wanted thing that crashes through our lives and leaves us rushing towards reaffixing ourselves into proper place. They are the headache of an old injury flare-up, a bounced check, the divorce papers, and a vehicle totaled. They are the reminder that what we put out into the world may not return as we hoped. Instead of finding a dainty Chickadee perched gently on my feeder, I see a 5 lb. squirrel inhaling nuts like they're preparing for the heavy-weight companionship in squirrel boxing. The frustration of the unwelcomed visitor has me spinning with options A, B, or C to fix the problem, forgetting I have as much control over a wild creator as I do the Creator who made it. Life is full of wild things and each time we choose to step into that wild, we take a risk. We may find a banditry of Chickadees or we may spend our energy on proping up on toppled lives.
❊ ❊ ❊
As I write this essay, many friends come to mind who have attempted to regain their health, heal their hearts, and care for their families only to find their attempts are a minor deterrent. The unwelcome presence of suffering remains and has even broadened its unruly path. The wilderness can be unforgiving, seemingly offering us very little in return for our efforts. Our lives are full of imbalances, unfairness, and downright cruelty. My battle with squirrels is just a piece of straw quickly burned up amongst the flames of a world on fire. And yet, it feels like a gentle reminder I can also choose my battles, letting me decide which ones are worth fighting for. The joy birds bring me, especially during the winter months, is significant enough to enter the fray. It’s not just the simple joy of the hobby but a consistent reminder that life continues, even in the dead of winter.
The battle for healing, connection, and restoration is worth fighting for even amid our exhaustion and hopelessness. And sometimes we’ll lose those battles. That’s the risk we take when we attempt to put good things out into the world. Our return is not a sure thing. We will do our best to chase away what we have not invited, even when we know it will return over and over again. This may feel like futility and in some way it is, and yet, it is also the innate resiliency God built into the human soul. And I stare amazed at the tenaciousness and ingenuity of those suffering around me to keep entering the fray, knowing they will have to do it again tomorrow.
The welcoming prayer isn’t that we give up fighting for what is good and beautiful, it’s an offering of courage that we can accept our losses and the ability to embrace our human lives. It helps us to exchange our desire for control to find the deeper desire for surrender. Both things can be true: we can choose our battles while also embracing our very human reality. We can fight for beauty and goodness without our failures and losses naming who we are. Fighting from a place of surrender instead of a place of control feels counterintuitive and yet, it’s the only reality we have. All other realities are only half realities.
❊ ❊ ❊
Looking out my window, I find the cutest little Chickadee perched on my feeder. She is swift like the wind, grabbing a single sunflower seed and soaring up to perch on our almost bear plum tree. The feeders are running low, so I will take a few moments in the chill of the fall morning to fill them. I also will run to the store for cold medicine today for my sick husband and may just grab a bag of shelled peanuts for my furry friends.
May we all have the courage to welcome the unwanted and continue the fight for goodness.
Many blessings,
Reading through this, I could not help but think of Mark Rober's youtube channel. He had a similar conundrum and at first he decided to build barriers to the squirrels, but when they kept overcoming, he decided to start building obstacle courses for them instead. His inventions are so fascinating to watch (https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgeXOVaJo_gl1ZIpbYyPRXzQner7-5j5k) and they're a great example of what can happen when instead of trying to fight a situation we welcome it in and embrace it!