Neighbor Possum

A possum lives under our front step. From there, it's a short trip to the grocery store, otherwise known as our compost pile. Once in a while, if we take the kitchen scraps out after dark, we can find her dining out.

My neighbors and i have decided we like possums because they eat ticks, mice, and rats. My neighbor who has a chicken coop feels lucky to have a possum living underneath the coop.

Mindfulness eats our pesky thoughts, simply by watching and feeling them. Here and gone. I don't have to believe that thought, after all. Sometimes, i watch the same thought come and go a dozen times. Why does the mind need to keep giving me the same message over and over? Because the mind isn't listening to the silence of truth.

The possum waddles off into the dark.

Someone's Been Eating My Seeds

During meditation at 5:30 a.m., i hear the unpleasant sound of something chewing something underneath the sink. It's all i can do to restrain myself from jumping up off my cushion, grabbing a flashlight, and looking for the rodent. It sounds bigger than a mouse. The sounds start, stop, start again.

Last month, i complained that my pumpkins in the basement had been eaten. My sweetie set mousetraps. No luck. Now, all my seed packets have been shredded.

More mouse traps. Plus a hav-a-heart trap. And, finally, a rat trap. Still, no luck.

The imagination runs wild. (Doesn't it always?)
Aversion is rampant. (A rat? A squirrel? A hibernating chipmunk?)
All stemming from unpleasant stimuli:
a sound--unpleasant
which i then imagine to be "chewing"--unpleasant
More imagination: "bigger than a mouse"--unpleasant
Evidence: pumpkins with chewed holes--unpleasant
More evidence: seed packets chewed open--unpleasant
Stories: "How did that critter get into the house?"--unpleasant
Not knowing--unpleasant.

Someone's been eating my seeds. (Some of which were 20 years old!)
Guess i'll have to start afresh.
Open the seed catalog.
Ahhh. Pleasant.

Pumpkin in the Bathtub

I'm storing my last pumpkin in my bathtub. Why? you might ask.

Three pumpkins and one butternut squash were sitting on a shelf in the basement when my sweetie noticed that someone was eating them from the backside. The seeds were neatly piled up to one side.

He set mousetraps and caught 5 mice, but the pumpkin-eating continued. He set a hav-a-heart trap with bird seed. Rat? Squirrel? Chipmunk? (Chipmunks are supposed to be sleeping this month.) No answer.

I decided to store my one remaining pumpkin in the bathtub. If the rodent went for the pumpkin, he would have a hard time escaping the bathtub.

So far, the pumpkin is safe.

What's eating you? Come on. 'Fess up. I know there's something, though you don't have to tell me.

How do you just "let go"? Start with forgiving yourself. "I forgive myself for not understanding...."

I forgive myself for not understanding just how delicious a pumpkin is to a hungry rodent.
I forgive myself for not understanding how the rodent gets into my house in the first place.
I forgive myself for not understanding....

Rats!

Rats have arrived in my neck of the woods. My neighbor, who has chickens, saw a rat yesterday in her chicken coop, followed quickly by a mink who chased the rat across the lawn, caught it by the neck, and took it home to the baby minks for breakfast.

Living in the woods, i expect a certain seclusion--no traffic goes past my house--and i enjoy the wildlife. Now i expand my definition of wildlife to include rats.

This new "neighbor" with its unsavory reputation has moved in. If i resist and cry "Not in my back yard!" my mind suffers the conflict of I-don't-want with but-I-have. What we resist, persists.

After all, i'm also neighbor to a mink.