From Sonja de WitA couple of nights ago, I was on the deck at our cliff, doing a sit. We live an hour west of Victoria on the ocean. There is a steep cliff, 200 ft, down to the water, where humans can’t go. We have a deck at the edge of the cliff with benches and a table. The house is well back, far enough that your spouse probably won’t hear if you shout.
It was evening but not dark yet. I was just getting into the sit when I heard something in the bushes, and then a very small black bear walked past. Uh-oh. I wanted the bears to know I was there so I said to the baby bear, “Go back to your mother!” I did know it probably didn’t understand English, but I didn’t want to be between mother and cub. This freaked the little guy out so much that he ran away, but away from the mother, and he half-scrambled, half-fell down the cliff. (There is a ledge below the top, so he wouldn’t have fallen more than eight or ten feet, probably into some bushes, and bears are pretty good at falling: here on the road we get lots of evidence of that when it’s apples season.) The mother meanwhile was snorting and huffing and peering through the bushes on my other side.
What could I do? I got up on the picnic table and stood up and said to the mother bear, “Your baby went that way.” She was quite upset herself. After a minute or so, she did go past me, she kind of had to. She was a beautiful glossy black, not big. She started up the path to the house, then came back. Sonja still on the table. Then she stood up and sniffed in classic bear pose and obviously picked up her cub’s scent. She charged through the salal to the edge of the cliff in the direction the cub had gone, and went crashing down below. After a minute or two I got down off the table and went to tell Alan what he’d missed!
What I wonder is whether you experienced sitters would have kept your Zen cool and stayed in your lotus, and just let it all happen around you.
(Posted by Sean because Sonja's on a slow dial-up connection, poor dear.)
