Carrie Link

WHAT'S THE BIG DEAL?

I spend my days writing, high in the desert of Central Oregon, surrounded by intense and active beauty. Birds of every family snack at my feeder. We've got quail, finches, blue birds, robins, hummingbirds, you name it. There are squirrels, long grey-tailed squirrels, much different looking than the ones in the valley that are brown with shorter tails. My friend, Terry, says squirrels are just rats with better outfits. I giggle each time I see the well-dressed rats run up the trees all around me.

There is a deer that comes to graze both morning and night. Right up to my kitchen window she comes, close enough to pet her, if I tried. I don't try. I am not inclined to break the agreement between us, "You don't bother me, I won't bother you." We've got a deal, and it works. This morning when I awoke she was right outside the bedroom window, resting in the early morning sun. She rests just a few feet from the yard's newest addition, the reclining Buddha. Apparently she saw he had the right idea, "Take a load off. Relax. You've got nothing but time," and she heeded his call to rest.

I resist his heed. "Relax." Why is that such an infuriating concept for me? What button is pushed deep within me that recoils at those five little letters either written or spoken? I know the answer. I find the button. Now it is my job to tease that button out until it no longer remains a button. New information and wisdom must replace well-worn tapes that still run, reel-to-reel in my stubborn mind.

The trees, mostly pine, grow in clusters. They grow tall and their trunks bend and blend together. As you look up to see where they end, over 100 feet above, you see the method to their madness. They are supporting one another up there, where the altitude gets a little too high and one might find oneself feeling faint. They've got each others' barks.

The deer, the well-dressed rats, the birds and trees all have much to tell me. I quiet myself and try to listen. I may even try to relax. There is a wind blowing through the curtains, perhaps I'll throw all caution to it.