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Copyright © 1997 by Linda Luke
All rights reserved. Inquiries should be addressed to
Twelve Star Publishing, P.O. Box 123, Jefferson, MD 21755
One hot, humid evening after a long day and a quick meal
foraged from the recesses of the kitchen, my 4-year-old, Timmy,
and I slipped down to the pond hand-in-hand. We both were tired
from a rigorous schedule in the outer world -- I planned, planted,
and cared for gardens with the added weight of business responsibilities,
and he attended day care full of the high-pitched excitement of
playing ball, trucks, tag, and vying to be heard among many children's
voices. We both knew this would be a welcome interlude, a time
to take quiet pleasure in each other's company. We made our way
to the bench at the water's edge and sat down gratefully side-by-side,
each gently surveying the restive beauty before us. Tall ornamental
grasses sprouted up around us like fountains, and the succulent
sedum and misty-hued herbs ringed the ponds' edge, snuggling in
the slate-gray rocks. The water was liquid green and tranquil.
Like stepping stones for the fairies, the water lilies floated
gracefully together, supporting the star-burst flowers in the
purest shades of yellow and pink.
As Timmy and I had approached the pond, there had been
a temporary flurry of squeaks and plops and the flailing of legs
as a bevy of frogs sounded the alarm of our approach. Soon, everything
was settled and our eyes adjusted to the subtle green hues of
the pond. Sitting calmly on a lily pad very us -- there he was
-- one bold frog friend! We greeted him with a friendly hello.
Timmy had named him Bena Bena Pollywog after the frog on the TV
Show "Gulla-Gulla Island." The long and impressive name
suits him, as he is the largest and most venerable frog at our
pond, and he seems utterly undaunted by our presence. To the contrary,
he usually makes a point of emerging and sitting nearby as if
he really wants to be with us. Now I know this sounds like a projection
of human values onto a frog, but things have happened that suggest
otherwise. This particular evening was a case in point. After
a time just sitting together, then sharing some of the highlights
of our day, Timmy asked if I wanted to sing a frog song to Bena
Bena. We sang "Gurumph Went the Little Green Frog One Day"
loudly and merrily. Shortly after we stopped, Bena Bena croaked
loudly once. It almost seemed like an appreciative "gu-od!"
I know - projecting again.
But Timmy was squealing with glee at this froggy "response"
and he begged to sing another song, so we took turns. I sang a
decidedly croaky version of "Jeremiah was a Bullfrog."
While I was singing, Bena did not make any noise. Once I was finished
and a polite pause had occurred, Bena issued forth with another
heartfelt two-syllable "gu-od!" Next it was Timmy's
turn, and he made up a song about a little froggy that was lost
and then finally found his mother. This was particularly poignant
because our son is adopted. I hugged him, then we waited -- and
there it was, the resounding croak.
This many times could not be a coincidence! The three of
us were sharing something very special. Timmy seemed to access
feelings inside of himself that nature, in the form of Bena, drew
forth -- feelings that may have been too difficult for him to
express another way. Bena seemed to find some interest in our
companionship, if only to resonate with our vocal reverberations.
I felt a profound Oneness in that moment. A part of me was frog
croaking with the best of them; a part of me knew loss and the
joy of finding; part of me knew that within me is All of
the Universe. The outer world seemed to simply be a differentiated
manifestation of All in endless, glorious permutations. Unlocking
such memories unleashes the best of the life force within.
In this way of knowing ourselves, we can no longer think
of hurting the environment or the frog. In knowing that we all
contain loss and the joy of finding, then we nurture and encourage
the expression of difficult feelings that simply need to be heard.
In The Celestine Prophecy, James Redfield wrote
after experiencing himself as the earth and as the moon,
"I perceived everything to be somehow part of me. As I sat on the peak of the mountain looking out at the landscape falling away from me in all directions, it felt exactly as if what I had always known as my physical body was only the head of a much larger body consisting of everything else I could see. I experienced the entire universe looking out on itself through my eyes. The realization was present that my life did not, in fact, begin with my conception and birth on this planet. It began much earlier with the formation of the rest of me, my real body, the universe itself. All knowledge seemed to merge with actual memories. Somehow I was recalling what had happened, and the recollection allowed me to look at evolution in a new way."
Breathe deeply and be reminded. Go outside and be still,
be aware, listen, then find the part of you that is each
thing you encounter. Let go completely. Experiment with the Universal
Oneness, and enjoy the extraordinary journey.
Nature Be.
Linda Luke is the joyful mother of two, and the owner of the
environmentally sensitive landscaping company Village Gardeners
in Libertytown, MD, (301) 898-0003.