Coyote called me into the forest.
Yellow eyes, low, and plume-tail flashing - a moving shadow through the trees. I was up from the table, breakfast forgotten, as I tried to claim every last glimpse. But there’s only so much you can see with your nose pressed up against the glass, and in a blink the moment had passed. I went back to my chair and settled in once more.
So Coyote called to me again.
At first it was just sound on the peripherals of sleep, but then Eric was shaking me gently awake and the songs took form. Three voices in the night, each practicing a different melody, creating a landscape of sound - silence in the deep valleys followed by a crescendo of howls and yips to reach the peaks. We looked at each other, wide-eyed in the dark, until the chorus faded and the only sound remaining was of wind through pine boughs, seeping beneath the cracked window.
Wild like that, that can be neither ignored nor forgotten, always seems to sink down into the deepest part of me. It works its way into my mind until I feel I’ll go crazy spending another minute with a roof over my head. So the following evening found me beneath the trees, gulping down mountain air and soaking up as much Sierra magic as possible. And I thanked Coyote for getting me out the door.
Just as my feet pointed themselves homeward, yellow eyes and the whisper of feet on fallen needles - we startled one another. Once again Eric and I scrambled, desperate to see while Coyote ran. But then all seemed to slow, the roles of chaser and chased fell away, and we simply looked at one another.
Settling low, back on my heels, I asked if we might join the pack for a moment - simply let our wild souls become part of the forest. Coyote's head lowered in answer as other shadows disentangled themselves from the trees, more pack members revealing themselves to our quiet eyes. Together, we simply existed for a moment - and it was a gift.
And of course, Coyote.
A totem to help you rekindle your wild.