The Soul is Like a Wild Animal
The soul is like a wild animal…it seeks safety in the dense underbrush, especially when other people are around.
–Parker Palmer
Tule elk on the Tomales Point Trail in Point Reyes, CA
My sister and I fought the wind on the Tomales Point Trail in late March. The trail sits on a high ridge between the Pacific Ocean and Tomales Bay at the northernmost tip of Point Reyes and cuts through a tule elk reserve.
We were immersed in nature’s canvas. The crashing blue-green waves below to the west, the glimmering water of the bay down the ridge to the east. White calla lilies, purple Pacifica irises, and golden California poppies littered the ridge come to life with fresh spring grasses. We stopped to notice the colors, the patterns, the shapes as we trekked onward in search of the elk.
They appeared suddenly around a bend in the trail. Dozens of them just a few feet from us, munching contentedly on their newly sprung meal. They didn’t seem to mind us. Unthreatened, they stood their ground, as we discussed their stature, their lack of antlers, the lightness of their spring coat. They just looked at us intently and us at them until we shuffled along in search of more.
Leaving that trail, we took another path down to the coast that wrapped around a large lagoon. The sign said it was a bird watcher’s paradise. We didn’t plan to go all the way to the ocean, where the sound of the crashing waves posted like a “dead end” sign from the trailhead. But the path was lined with underbrush and the possibility of wild animal sightings was an effective lure.
Shortly down the trail we spotted a brush rabbit. It stopped dead in its tracks, giving us the familiar side eye of a prey animal, and then abruptly bounded under cover of the bramble to safety. We saw a few more along the way. Some scurried rapidly ahead before darting onto a well-worn path tunneling down under the brush. Some paused longer than others, allowing us a longer look. The California quails did the same, their delightful little plumes bobbing atop their heads as they scurried under a nearby fence.
I wished they knew our intentions. We had no desire to capture or harm them, just delight in their beauty and presence for a moment. But such is the life of a wild animal. It cannot guess or predict our behaviors. It cannot know safety out in the open.
The soul behaves like those wild brush rabbits, knowing its vulnerability in the presence of others, hiding instinctively in its homely bramble. Patience and gentleness can begin to call it out, teaching it through experience that it can safely reveal itself. This is the work of the Spirit speaking words of grace and comfort. Like wild brush rabbits, our forefather and foremother hid themselves from God in their guilt and their shame. Through the Incarnate Son, we are invited into His presence, open and unafraid. Even when words of safety are spoken, our ancestor souls do not yet feel it.
The art of soul care through the hospitable listening presence of another offers a space for our souls to venture out of their hiding, allowing us over time to reroute the entrenched pathways that lead us away from the presence of God and build pathways onto the high plain of unhindered Companionship.
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