There is a Story Standing Right in Front of You

Everyone is living a story. Can we take the time to hear it?

How little we sometimes know about the people that we interact with. 

Lessons at the zoo/ lessons for life.

I was speaking with one of the other volunteers at the local zoo, where I have been lucky enough to volunteer for the past 11 years. She and I were having a conversation about our recent loss of one of our dear docents. We all loved him. She and I talked about him, about aging, about life, death, how brief it all is, how lovely the memorial service had been. 

We talked about our elephant, standing next to each other in front of him. He will be leaving us soon to travel to a beautiful elephant sanctuary in Tennessee. We lost our other elephants through the last several years, moved our last female elephant to this same sanctuary last year (female elephants need to be around other elephants even more quickly than males do). Our last remaining elephant needs to be around other elephants as well. So, we will send him off with sadness, love, and happiness about where he will be going. He can have friends there. He can possibly reconnect with our female elephant who used to be his friend here. 

Then she and I stood quietly next to each other, enjoying being near each other in that moment.

She spoke up and said that she didn’t really have any energy today and didn’t feel like doing much. I responded that for me, I have found that it’s important to pay attention to what my body and spirit might be telling me. I encouraged her to take it easy, be gentle with herself. 

I didn’t really know much about her, but I knew that I was drawn to her gentle spirit and kindness and could sense that about her. She spoke again. She went on to say that she was so tired today. I was quiet as I continued to listen.

She told me that she was the primary caregiver for her husband, who is suffering from Parkinson’s and is in a quite severe stage of it. She went on to say that she felt like she had already put in a full day of work before she even came in for her shift at the zoo. Today it got to her. Today she was more depleted and tired. I could see it in her eyes. I could hear it in her voice.

How little we know about what struggles another may be going through. How eager some of them may be to share some of that, to have someone hear part of their story, their life, their daily struggles and challenges. 

I was so moved. Here was this woman, always smiling to others, being kind and reaching out to help others learn about the various animals that they were in front of, with kindness and compassion. And now I heard a bit about what her life at home was like. 

I had no words. There are no words sometimes that seem adequate. I walked closer to her and pulled her in for a hug, sensing that this was ok with her. I tried to communicate with my hug that I heard her and in that moment in time wanted to offer her my kind attention and compassion.

She thanked me and told me that she needed that. After a bit she said that she needed to get back to her shift and walk around the zoo being available for questions. I could see that she was close to tears and that she seemed to want to do that alone. I respected that and wished her well, told her I would see her next time that we met at the zoo.

Elephants and Children. Great teachers.

I have observed the elephants for all of these years, and have learned to stop, move more slowly, really learn to be with another being. To stop and really watch and listen with no preconceived expectations is something that I did not really take the time to do in my youth.

I watch the children at the zoo while on my shifts there. Some of them become mesmerized standing in front of our majestic elephant. We make eye contact. We are together in that moment, and I want to honor the part of them that sees and feels that sacred moment. I want to let them know that I see them, that I am there with them. One little girl, much to my surprise as well as that of her parents, came close to me and worked her way to stand in front of me leaning against my legs as we both watched the mystery in front of us. No words were needed, only what was felt on a level beyond words.

Lessons in everyday life.

I walk down the street and make eye contact with others, smile and almost always get a smile back. I talk with clerks at the grocery store, with my mail carrier when she sometimes delivers packages that do not fit in my mailbox. I talk with folks next to me at the gym. There are so many stories, such courage in life, such challenges that people face, all unknown to most of us. They bravely carry on, sometimes so very tired, and sometimes so sad and needing a kind word or gesture. 

I respond to stories here that I read, and try to respond to comments that I receive on my stories. I am grateful that people take the time to read what I have written, when they let me know that my story may have touched something inside of them. It is such a gift to me. It is one of my hopes for my writing, that I might help someone else feel a bit more understood and a bit less alone for a few moments. 

We are all so hungry to be seen and heard. 

One of the gifts of aging.

As I age, I find it interesting that I want to slow down. When younger, I felt like I wanted to move faster, to get it all in, to do a lot of things, to squeeze in life as much as possible. And now, as an elder, I want to slow down and savor things that I might have rushed by before. I want to notice the present moment and live in it more. 

Now I understand the delight of watching a bird take a bath in my backyard. It is a ballet that is beautifully choreographed to its own music, the movements graceful and mesmerizing.

I really try and listen more to each conversation that I might become part of, to hear what is said and beyond that, to hear what is unsaid, what the eyes and body language might be telling me. 

I go for walks in the redwoods and I walk slowly. The younger joggers and runners pass me by, some wearing headphones and looking intensely ahead, focused on their goal. It’s great, I think, that they get to run in such a beautiful place. I wonder how many of them really see it. 

I make eye contact on these walks with those that are open to that. Our gazes meet and we smile, often, acknowledging that we are kindred spirits in this special cathedral of the redwoods. We are here for the sacredness. We feel the trees and their essence, and can then also sometimes better feel our own essence and that of each other. 

I am in awe of life. I am in awe of all the struggles and the resiliency of the human spirit, of how we can connect and touch each other’s souls in certain moments. I am so grateful to be honored enough to have others sometimes share their stories with me, both in person and here. I am grateful to be able to share some of mine here, as well, with you.