The video is a wonderful invitation into the present moment, yours most likely without chickens in it. 😉  But we have plenty of other needs to tend and things pecking at us.

Elouin’s stillness, presence, patience and full-bodied being are gifts, not only for the hens.  

A few posts back, I shared with you a short video of my grandson, Elouin Crow that I called, “The Art of Non-Attachment.”  Earlier this week, my daughter texted me another video.  In the 42 second long the video below that I’ve named, Farmer Crow Teaches the Power of Now, Elouin embodies another lesson (without, of course, trying to teach anything).   

Do come for a brief and timeless visit to the chicken pen with little farmer, Elouin.

After watching, check out my reflections below the video. 

*NOTE:  some devices, you may need to scroll down a bit past a white expanse to find the video.

REFLECTIONS

The power of now and being present have almost become cliches, often all too easy to gloss over on the way to somewhere else.  Also, NOW can sometimes feel like a hard or even undesirable place to stay in, to be. 

This morning, anxious about all my TO DO’s (including wondering when I might clear space to be with the little star of this video —I skimmed right past now to But when and how?!  I headed straight into that familiar tightening that happens in my body when I feel under attack by thoughts, so often about not having enough time or doing it wrong.

My palms were definitely not open either to giving or receiving like Elouin’s.

In my contracting, I was forgetting to remember my loyal body, my useful mind, the lovely shelter around me (not just the tasks related to it). I was ignoring my breath, the sublime, pale blue, bomb-free sky over me, the leaves, too glorious to adequately describe, doing their holding on and letting go.

Succumbing to tunnel vision, I was not consciously present in my body and in my safe home;  I was lost in the spin cycle of my mind, tumbling in thoughts.

Thankfully, I am increasingly aware that even when circumstances, or the state of my body or emotions,  are stirring up fear, I can change the channel (change the vibration, some would say) without leaving the moment.

Elouin’s palms remain open—even to the pecking.  

I am reminded that when events, people, pain, and my thoughts peck at me like they did this morning—like Pebbles, Ocean, Peep and other hens peck Elouin—even then I can remain present.

My wonderful therapist, who is also a mindfulness teacher, counsels bringing curiosity to the moment.  Elouin Crow’s quiet presence is infused with curiosity.  He is learning in every second.

I am learning day by day, the transforming power of open, nonjudgmental (a kind of pure), curiosity—often expressed in the tender query: What am I feeling now? 

Add self-compassion, and there’s a recipe for shifting the energy and gentling. Little Farmer Crow doesn’t need to consciously invite self-compassion into the chicken coop.  But I do.   

This morning, along with my feeling anxious, self-judgment rushed in.  I turned towards both.  I paused, sat, took some slow breaths, then did some EFT tapping.  Within minutes, I felt a shift from the turbulence in my mind to settling into my body, a kind of return to myself.  The urgency (aka fight, flight or freeze) released its hold. Often, it’s journaling with gentle curiosity and self-compassion that helps me make the shift and come home to my Self. My ongoing meditation practice has shown me what being home feels like.

Whatever one’s preferred path back, how good it feels to remember and experience one’s identity that is deeper and truer than the turmoil or the triumph of our passing moments. 

Being with whatever is arising, accepting what is, and seasoning it all with compassion, leaves me in better shape for doing.

Watching and breathing with Elouin makes it all seem so much simpler.  There is something so true about this simplicity, so good to remember. 

So, here I am, right now.  Writing you.  Sitting on my small screened porch.  Just this, now.  A sweet breeze brushes my cheeks, lifts the leaves, still green, of the maple before me.  My fingers (arthritis quiescent at the moment) tap out these words, this letter from my heart here, to yours, in your here and now. 

At times, I feel concern for our world and the quest for power over rather than presence with. I wish we could, more often, be receptive to each other the way Elouin is with the chickens, each of whom has a name and a personality of its own.  

So, imagine and feel with me:

What if we humans—with less thinking superimposed on the moment—could share more quietly receptive, mutually nourishing encounters? 

What If we could be in each other’s company and in the company of each other’s clucks with no judgment or feeling of separation and “other”?

What if we were more open to each other, trusting, willing to draw close without previous conditioning and bias?

What if as individuals and societies we would also dig deep and distribute food to each other?

What if children everywhere could have healthy spaces in which to grow, nourished by the food they need and by love, sheltered by the homes they need and by love?

I wish for our world quiet AND dynamic acceptance—and even delight in each other—as together we co-create our Now.