One of my favorite poems (whose author might be Mary Oliver or David Whyte, at the moment I cannot remember) recounts the magical experience of spotting a deer in a field, not because the deer stood out, but rather the deer blended in so well, that the only way the observer noticed it was the feeling that "something was wrong with the grass..." And in that place where the grass was different somehow, there was the deer, lying down, resting, still.
Recently I had a friend visiting the Sanctuary. We went for a mindful walk in one of the canyons that lead to the lake. We spotted an owl feather on the ground. We stood quietly, marveling at the feather, very new, perfect, not weathered or torn. My friend looked at the canyon wall, and there it was, a great horned owl only 20 feet from us. We continued to observe in silence, marveling at this beautiful creature. It was only after some time that we noticed a second owl, probably its mate, on a nearby ledge. What an incredible experience.
It is one thing to hike through nature, tromping along, speaking loudly, or with headphones on, focused on "getting our steps in." It is another experience entirely to walk with mindful intention and quiet observation, allowing the senses to pick up on the smallest of details, a feather, a sound, or something wrong with the grass...
