This moment in time reminded me of a night many, many years ago when I was camping with my mother and two young sons. We were in a campground in Wisconsin and the air was filled with the lively voices of fellow campers, enjoying their campfires and the crisp night air. Suddenly, a chorus of coyotes yipped and sang and the campground fell deathly silent. Animals voices replaced human voices as the humans strained to figure out what exactly they had heard. What animal had made that sound?
Maybe it was a bit of fear that had quieted us both then and now. How close were these animals we wondered? A feeling of needing to get inside where it was safe came over us. Safe from what? From ourselves? Tucked into our homes, away from animals that we ourselves are, makes us less safe actually. With walls separating us from the the outside, we find ourselves removed from our true animal selves, the part of us that is in touch with the land and knowing how best to walk upon it without destroying it. Maybe those animal voices we heard had something to tell us and rather than listen, we ran away.