Deer Whispering and learning to connect

Since I started writing this blog, I am surprised at how many stories are coming to the surface.  I haven't thought of a lot of these stories in a long time.  At times it feels like I am connecting with old friends.  Some of the time, it feels like I am connecting with old enemies.  Both are welcome- there is only one switch that controls the meaning that is woven into my life.  It is either all on or all off.  I have been surprised at how clearly and quickly the lessons in these stories come to the surface.  The more we tell our stories, the more they instruct us.  They add meaning to life.  Telling my story has validated my experiences and feelings at the same time that it challenges beliefs I was not aware I was living by.  Thank you all for reading and passing these stories along.  I hope that at some point some of my readers will have stories of their own to tell, a good guest post is always welcome.

Sitting in a marital session recently, I was reminded of a camping trip to Great Basin National Park when I was about 14 years old.  My dad was my Scout Master at the time and took a three day weekend to take two van-loads of boys out into the desert to experience Lehman Caves.  We took this trip near the beginning of October, and I remember two things- it was a LONG drive and it was very cold.  

Like any respectable group of teens would do, we found plenty to keep us entertained and distracted from how miserable we could have been.  The first night in the campground, we discovered that the local population of deer was not to shy about approaching humans.  We observed them casually walking through our campground, and true to form, we made loud noises, threw food, and were generally a nuisance (don't worry you animal-lovers, I have changed my ways and realize that my participation in the following was NOT a good way to take care of woodland creatures).  Once we figured out that loud noises made the deer run away, we changed our approach.  We would talk quietly and move slowly.  We would pause as we approached one of the deer and give it time to get used to our proximity before moving closer.

Over the two days at the campground, we became masters at approaching the deer.  A few of us shared our baloney sandwiches and  Doritos with one or more of the deer.  We contemplated putting a leash around the neck of the deer, but our leaders wisely intervened and pointed out our lack of wisdom- a leash around the neck of the deer would certainly cause it to run- with one of us holding on for dear life.

I have never been a deer hunter, I don't have any desire to hunt.  From what I understand, the goal of the hunt is not to share a sandwich with the prey, it is to sneak up on and overpower the prey.  I often observe people taking this approach in their relationships.  They carefully manage their approach, attempt to downplay intentions or needs with one another in an effort to keep their partner from bolting.  When the desired proximity is achieved. . . BAM! Both parties unload on their relationship and then get disappointed when they find that their partner didn't feel safe and withdrew.  I learned from the deer in the Great Basin that I have to learn how an individual feels safe in being approached.  I have to pursue only in the in a way that feels safe for the person if I am desiring to share a moment.  This includes honesty about my intentions, willingness to pause my approach and observe, and increasing kindness and nurturing as I draw closer.  Even the intervention of the adults teaches a valuable lesson: Don't trap people in order to keep them close, that only makes them run- and when that person runs, you will get bumped and bruised because you will try to hold on.