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A while ago, a friend told me to try meditating for 20 minutes a day if possible, and it would quiet my mind and help me relax. Asking an old ADD person not to think about anything for 20 minutes is just about asking for a miracle. But I do believe in miracles, so I started doing it whenever I get the chance. 

There is a place that I can walk to in 15 minutes where I can sit at the bottom of the waterfall on Camp Creek, where there are no noises or distractions other than the sound of the waterfall, the birds, and leaves blowing in the wind. I just sit still on a downed tree, looking and listening to what is going on around me. And, of course, I have to look at my watch to make sure that I stay quiet for 20 minutes; I have found that it actually takes 15 minutes for me to actually start being a part of all that is around me, seeing the tiny spiderwebs, and the seeds falling from the trees, or the tiny insects looking for food, stuff like that. 

One day, I started seeing all the different kinds of trees and was amazed by how many different types of trees shared the same space: white and red oaks, maples, black walnuts, sourwoods, poplars, pines, a dying hemlock, and numerous rhododendrons. They were all within 100 feet of the creek, some on the south-facing side of the creek, and some on the north-facing side, all there because of the water. 

What came to mind is the fact that all these different trees were sharing the same space, even though the walnuts would have preferred more upland areas, and the pines might have preferred more sun. However, they share the same space, despite their differences. They found a spot where they could survive, where their basic needs were met. My immediate thought was, why can’t we do that? Why do we need to live in the ‘right’ neighborhood? And join the right clubs or churches? You know exactly what I’m talking about.

Then, yesterday, when I went out picking wild wineberries in the woods where they have always been prolific, I noticed that there were not as many berries on the vines. Most of them had been picked off already, and I realized that the bears had probably eaten them. Of course, I was not happy, and I instantly started thinking about how to prevent that from happening again. The next day, when I was looking for berries, my husband, Allen, told me to go look behind the barn, where there were lots of ripe wineberries, and I saw that he was right. Those vines were loaded. Nothing had eaten any of them. 

Then the light went off in my brain. The vines in the woods were in the bears’ backyard, but the vines behind the barn are in our domain. Why would we expect the bears not to eat and live in their woodland habitat? They respected our habitat near the barn, so we should do the same for them. We have driven wildlife out of their homes with interstate highways and mountain-top developments. The least that we can do is leave those wild berries to the bears and whatever is lingering in the woods.

It’s their home, not ours!