Spirit Animals: MOUSE the MONK

09/02/2013/117 Comments/in Book - Gracious Wild, Mammals, Spirit Animals/by wildgratitude

Mouse Symbolism

“There in the dried grass and leaves was a brown field mouse. He was only a couple steps away, nearly under our noses. Poised on the doorstep of his den, he stood twitching his whiskers at the woman and the hawk. He looked like a country mouse lost in the city of towering thistle stalks. The mouse’s brown coat blended in with the ground cover. If it weren’t for my sharp-eyed hawk companion I’d easily have missed the daring rodent. The mouse stood, whiskers waving, his black eyes fixed with ours, and then was gone down the hole.” (from my book Gracious Wild: A Shamanic Journey with Hawks)

Mouse Spirit Animal Sees Details

Mouse has only that which is right in front of his eyes. He reaches up to grab a stalk of grass and pulls it down towards him, bowing the blade. Then mouse sits for what seems like hours inspecting and picking every last morsel of seed off the stalk with his dexterous little hands. Mouse has many predators, too many to count. Rather than overwhelm himself with the complexity of watching, listening, and smelling for his enemies far and wide, he paradoxically does the opposite.

His focus comes forward and stays on what only is near, and somehow, some way, that which is near warns him of danger. Mouse is safe in the details, safe to live out his life, raise young, and make a comfortable home underground. This alone is nothing short of miraculous.

Mouse in the House Meaning

So many see a mouse in the house as a sign of living in filth. People get really, and I mean really, shook up. We must not curse his intrusion in our house and into our lives. This sweet, soft, and so very clean little creature is bringing you a message. The meaning of mouse may be the most important message you will ever receive in your life. Please, please don’t excuse it!

Now is the time to evaluate your attention to detail. Are you drowning in your own need to control every little detail of your life? Are you trying to control the details in other people’s lives? The spiritual meaning of mouse in the house is about letting go of the details. It may even be as literal as stopping your obsession over cleanliness and organization. Instead pause to appreciate the beautiful home and life you have. Start a list of things that you are grateful for. Learn to dismiss the list of details that annoy you.

Mouse spirit animal teaches us the discipline of releasing overwhelm. If you are feeling overwhelmed, realize that this could be a badge of honor for you. Have you ever felt like you were competing with your friends to prove who was the most busy or exhausted? Mouse symbolism is a stark reminder that multitasking is a sure way to find catastrophe. Stop trying to do everything at once, and focus on one thing at a time.

Mouse power animal comes to visit us to remind us that the power is the details, but not in the way we think. It is not through controlling every nook and cranny of our house and our world, but through appreciating the small things that brings us peace.

Is the Devil or God in the Details?

Ever heard the phrase “the devil is in the details”? Then the details are something to avoid right? The details are something to fight and resent. We end up hating doing what has to get done. The errands, chores, and menial tasks wear at us and take precious time and energy away from what we’d rather be doing.

The phrase “the devil is in the details” actually originates from the phrase “God is in the details”. Let me say it again on behalf of our quiet-as-a-mouse little friend that doesn’t always speak up on his own behalf. God is in the details. Now sit with that. Changes things doesn’t it?

What if you started to see God/Spirit/Source in the details of things? When you stop to say good morning to your daughter/sister/friend take in the radiance of the light in her eyes. Let the moonlight capture your imagination when you take out the trash late at night. Allow the breeze to bring the scent of lilacs to you as you walk out to your car.

What if when you flung that huge desire to live a life full of purpose out to the cosmos you received an answer no bigger, no louder than a mouse? Would you notice it? Would you be grateful for it? Or, are you waiting for a wizard to come, wand in hand, and make your dreams materialize in a shower of sparks and magic?

Meaning of Mouse the Monk

Mouse symbolism serves so many. The greatest sacrifice mouse will ever make is his life. His flesh with likely turn to fox flesh or hawk flesh or snake flesh. We must not miss that key of mouse medicine. His little, seemingly insignificant life, is important. Mouse spirit animal teaches us about the power of humility.

When looking at what does mouse mean in your life, know that the little helper is here to remind us that more often than not our wishes come true in between the lines and inside the ordinary. Answered prayers are between blades of grass and inside fine heads of seed.

The universe is conspiring to shower you with tiny, quiet miracles every single moment of your life. Mouse spirit animal knows this. This is what makes mouse a monk. If only we all could know this. Mouse in his quiet, unassuming way prompts us to remember that miracles make sense in the quiet where nothing else clouds our thoughts. Miracles make sense when living a tiny life in a tiny universe. Mouse knows this. This is what makes mouse a monk. If only we all could know this. When we stop looking far and wide and outside of ourselves for the answers and, instead, truly focus on what is right here with us, we begin to see the Divine in the details.

One last message from mouse spirit animal – remember the mystical law that “what is small is really big”.

"Ghostly Messenger" from Gracious Wild

04/04/2013/0 Comments/in Book - Gracious Wild/by wildgratitude

This is an excerpt from my book: Gracious Wild: A Shamanic Journey with Hawks…

Another spirit I’d known in this life began calling on me regularly since I’d come to the island. The woman who was my babysitter when I was a child was a grandmother to me. She first appeared randomly in my dreams, but then her visits began to take on meaning. I hadn’t seen her during the last few years of her life and always regretted never saying goodbye.

I was in a dimly lit living room with the shades drawn. Pauline sat low on an old sofa with green and gold floral print. She was plump like I remembered her in one of her big, soft housedresses. The room was smokey with rays of light coming in through the cracks in the curtains. I knew she was dying.

“You should get going to class,” she encouraged. She was right; it was nearly time for my college courses to start.

“I don’t want to leave you,” I shyly admitted.

“All will be well,” she comforted, “come here and give me a hug.”

I approached her and bent over to wrap my arms around the round woman now on in years. She felt frail under my arms. The sweet scent of her housedress rubbed my chin. Her tight, gray curls tickled my cheek. Her arms engulfed me. I leaned into her and whispered, “goodbye grandma.”

I felt myself lifting up with her spirit as it left her body. For a moment, I held the embrace and revealed in the weightlessness. I felt so free. Then, self-conscious, I pulled back into my own body. I stood aside and watched her spirit ascend.

My wrist-watch alarm woke me from my otherworldly dream hours before dawn. I ate breakfast staring at three black windows and packed carefully for a cross-island trip. A setting three quarter moon surrounded by haunting, wispy clouds loomed ahead as I climbed Manzanita Hill. The scene was the perfect backdrop for a horror movie, and after my strange dream it felt as if I was walking the land of the dead. What was I doing here? In answer, a shrill, blood-curdling scream erupted from the darkness around me. I stopped, my muscles surging in anguish against the anxiety. I spun to face the tormenting barn owl that had released his shriek. I let out a madwoman’s scream of my own. Hearing my voice so similar to his raised my courage. His ghostly white figure glowing in the moonlight stealthily disappeared into the night sky. Just then my grandmother’s house came to mind. She had owl figures and pictures decorating her entire house. This was becoming way too real.

"Morning Walk" from Gracious Wild

03/09/2013/0 Comments/in Book - Gracious Wild/by wildgratitude

This excerpt from my book Gracious Wild tells of how a female northern harrier hawk began joining me on my morning walks on a lonely island I lived on. Her presence was one of my first confirmations that my encounters with the wild had a broader purpose:

Every morning, I walked into the coreopsis forest to check on the harbor. I followed the trail through the chest-high field of golden blossoms to the crest of the cliff overlooking the bay. There was a large opening in the coreopsis forest here, and an assemblage of large rocks topped by a stone cross stood in the center. This was a monument to a Spanish explorer famous for his exploits in the region. I’d try to get here early while the island was still at rest so I could linger, take in the view of the quiet harbor, and enjoy the short, meditative hike.

Along with the burst into color on the island, I acquired company on my walk to and from the stone cross. Each morning as I crossed the runway and started on the trail, I would hear an approaching keen. At first her cry blared then faded, but as it got closer, it turned into a ceaseless yelling. The female harrier hawk Morappeared coursing straight at me, her dark eyes piercing mine and her brown wings flapping sharply. She came right at eye level set on running me down, mouth open, screaming like mad. The trail was gently sloped, bearing me hard upon her. Just as we were about to collide, I abruptly swiveled on my feet to follow the turn of the path downhill. She immediately pivoted on her wingtips to mirror me.

We then traveled in tandem, my feet and her wings falling in unison. She hovered just 10 or 15 feet above my left shoulder. At times she’d have more to say and I’d turn to her with some smart quip. Wonder where I’m going this morning madam? Other mornings we’d travel in silence listening to each other’s movement and breath. She became so accustomed to expecting me that I often found her waiting at an old fencepost at the turn in the trail. She’d lift off as I approached and take position at my left flank. Her mate was usually in attendance, but he hung back and watched from afar.

The morning company of the harriers brought me limitless solace. Not only did they offer me much yearned for companionship, but they sparked a sense of magic in my being that I hadn’t remembered. I felt a kind of wonder that brought me out of the scientific detachment I clung so desperately to. With the harriers, I didn’t have to pull away and remain swirling in my intellectual dialect. I wasn’t required to pose theories and assign numbers to their movement. I was afforded the opportunity to respond and offered the chance to be a part of the experience.

During my enchanting walk each quiet morning, I re-entered a childhood of the natural world. My movement into hawk territory was no guilt-heavy intrusion into a place I didn’t belong, but rather a visit home. Here I acquired a sense of awe akin with the wild ones. The maiden harrier’s banter was calling me to something bigger than myself, to a purpose I felt stirring in my soul.