Lessons from a little black squirrel

I've become especially appreciative of still moments I've had even while working in the city. During my daily walks I discovered the Spanish steps. Now I go there almost daily, retreating into a haven from the noisy traffic, construction and chatty lunching business folk on Connecticut Ave.

So yesterday during my 30 minute lunch break, my mind was filled with needless thoughts and worries as I sat down on the wall next to the fountain. I quickly pulled out my homemade hummus sandwich from my L.L. Bean lunch bag, knowing that now, I only had about 15 minutes to eat before I had to get back to the desk and phones. Just as I was about to chomp down I saw a little black squirrel inching its way across the steps below me. Every few seconds it stopped and look up at me. It eventually made its way to a tree not too far from me on the left. Again, it inched its way up the tree about 4 feet and it stopped and sat down, its long fluffy dark tail cascading off a branch. And then, it turned its gaze toward me. Eery, right?

It sounds bizarre, but my busy mind calmed down instantly and I couldn't help but return the gaze. I think our acknowledgment of one another (if that's what it was) lasted about 10 minutes. I thought it so strange that this squirrel was all alone and not playing or moving rapidly through the trees. Has anyone else ever seen a squirrel so calm and focused?

This odd, but pleasant incidence fits into my spiritual exploration at this time of life. I just bought the newest issue of Ode titled the Silence Issue, which presents articles relating to peace and quiet and the need to lessen the world's noise pollution. I'm also reminded of what I've learned from reading Elizabeth Gilbert's memoir Eat, Pray, Love (in which she describes her experience in complete silence at an Indian ashram), my meditation lessons in Thailand last summer, and also the practice of "being present" as explained by Eckhart Tolle in his book A New Earth.

That little squirrel gave me a wake up call alerting me to the fact that even though I was in quiet and peaceful place, I had let my mind keep me from really appreciating and enjoying where I was. It was a good reminder to fully be with the space of wherever I am, not dwelling in my thoughts.