Meditating With A Cougar
Part 1
This actually just happened. It’s a true story.
It started with me loving to meditate in my backyard in the early summer mornings. I looked forward to waking up early and heading out to my meditation bench—the same one several of you so generously moved up to the little terrace for me during the summer potluck. But… it’s getting darker and darker in the early morning hours now, and on September 4th, I noticed trepidation and fear arising as I took my seat. Hmmm… this was new.
Instead of settling into a deep meditation my mind was:
- worrying about the cougar that roams our neighborhood and might pounce down on me from the rock wall.
- analyzing all the paths the cougar could find to reach that perfect perch on the rocks behind me, from which it could fell me with one quick lunge to my neck.
- figuring out what sounds to listen for so I could hear from where it was approaching.
- wondering if I could tell the difference between the sounds of a cougar moving into our yard and the deer who passed through as part of their morning munch.
- visualizing how far the cougar would drag my body and how Bill, my husband, would eventually find my body limp and mauled.
- making peace with the possibility that I might die meditating outdoors.
I made peace with dying for about five breaths of Hong-Sau. Sat for another moment to send out love to all beings—including the cougar in hopes that the power of my love would make it want to sit at my feet instead of eat me—and went inside.
Part 2
Next morning, I open the door to the back yard and look carefully. No signs or sounds of animals anywhere. My eyes reassure my mind, “There is no cougar.” I take my seat. “There is no cougar,” I repeat as I close my eyes. And the battle from yesterday begins again.
One mind saying, “There is no cougar.” The other mind saying “Oh yes there is. Pets are gone, bunny and deer parts are showing up in yards that border the forest. And there is a direct path from the forest to the perch from which the cougar will sneak up on me and pounce.”
My minds are so busy I can’t get into meditation. One mind is working overtime to keep me safe by entreating me to stop this madness and go inside. My other mind is gently calling it back, “Come back to this moment. Right here, right now, there is no cougar.”
Firmly and gently, I finally say to myself, “There is no cougar. What is this fear really about?” My mind shrieks loudly “But there will be and you’ll be so deep in meditation you won’t hear it coming and you’ll be caught unawares and bad things will happen.” With that, my subconscious mind instantly delivers the memory of the rape that happened in the tiny windowless shack I rented in the back yard of a house on the island of Oahu—fifty years ago. It was all I could afford as a barely-making-ends-meet student.
Ah…. this fear I’m having of the cougar isn’t an irrational fear. This is fear based on real experience. The experience of being deep in sleep on my tummy and suddenly waking to a body pounced on top of me, one hand over my mouth and another hand pressing the barrel of a gun into the right side of my ribs.
Meditation has taught me how to deal with moments like this, and so I show up for the sensations of terror my body is obviously still holding, and I pay attention. I hold compassion for my little twenty-year old self. I comfort her. I assure her I’m here with her. After a few moments I remind her how she was given help. A symbol, that carried her through the disorientation and terror.
And we remember together how the thought “You have a long life line. You’re not going to die,” instantly arose in my mind that night. I remind her how I held that thought, and the visual of my palm, and how it brought me a deep calm because I knew I would be okay. One thought, the symbol of my palm, had the power to move me out of terror so I could be present with the person next to me in my windowless, pitch black shack. I befriended the rapist. He never did hurt me. After two hours of mostly just talking and listening to a person I never did see, he left.”
Ah, I thought, this cougar thing is just about letting go of residual feelings that have been stored in my body all these years. I will be fine to meditate outside now.
But it’s not to be so. The next morning, September 6th, the cougar appears.
Part 3
Next morning, it’s now Friday, September 6th, I take my seat.
There’s nowhere near as much fear and trepidation as the past two days but there’s still a little. I try to meditate but I just can’t seem to let my mind dive into that deep place where I no longer hear the sounds around me… I still don’t feel safe enough to go deep into meditation.
And then, I hear something odd. Among the bird calls, squirrels chatting, bunnies munching, air compressors working overtime, and the cars heading to school and work, I hear the fluttering of bird wings close to me. As in a bird-sized bird. Not the humming bird that always visits. There it is again, directly behind me, and it lasts for more than a few seconds—as if it’s saying, “Pay attention to me!”
When it happens the third time, I decide to look. Very slowly I twist to the left and look behind me, nothing. I slowly twist to the right, and there it is. In the same spot from where the cougar will pounce—there is a dove. A dove perched. Still. Gazing at me. I meet its gaze as it continues to stare at me… And I get it. She’s a symbol.
I smile and slowly turn back. The tightness and tension in my body melt. Peace. She’s a symbol of peace. I am safe. I have been given another lifeline—a symbol just like the thought of my palm those fifty years ago. I am safe. My whole body settles. My heart flushes open. Finally I can go deep. Finally I am able to immerse myself in the meditation techniques I’ll be teaching you in October and November.
I’m floating in the aftereffect of these meditations—my heart bursting with light and love—when the cougar appears. She pounces silent and graceful from the perch behind me and moves slowly around my left side to sit at my feet. She looks at me, lays down, and places her right paw on my left foot. She gazes up at me, then lays her head on the paw resting on my foot. A few moment later, a second cougar comes from the right.
Two mountain lions lay at my feet… I am in awe. I am at peace.
Epilogue
First thing I do when I go inside is to find my well worn, thirty plus year old set of Medicine Cards by Jamie Sams. I look up the symbolism of the Mountain Lion. Here’s the short version…
Mountain Lion Medicine:
Power and Leadership. Time to stand on your convictions and lead yourself where your heart takes you. Others may choose to follow and the lessons will multiply. In assuming the place of power that Mountain Lion affords, you must constantly be aware of keeping peace. However, you can never make everyone happy unless you lie to yourself or others. This is human nature. Therefore, the first responsibility of leadership is to tell the truth. Know it and live it, and your example will filter down to the tiniest cub in the pride.
Ah, I knew it! It never fails. The fear of cougars wasn’t about the cougar at all. It was about navigating fear and proving my my self ready to receive the gift of Mountain Lion Medicine.
In the mornings that follow, as I enter my meditation, I can feel and see the cougars positioning themselves as guardians on the perch above me. Protected and safe, I’m able to go deep into meditation, much deeper than before. My whole being overflows with gratitude and awe.
Learning how to trust my inner guidance may just be the greatest gift my meditation teachers have given me. May you learn to trust yours too!
Are you ready to confront your fears and illuminate inner wisdom? We offer ongoing classes that focus on just that – check them out here!