Behind the Puddle

I have spent an unreasonable amount of time watching animals that have absolutely no idea I exist. A turtle, a squirrel, geese, mallards, herons and birds I still cannot identify. Creatures passing through the puddle whose entire interaction with me consists of my noticing them. They aren’t here for me. I think that’s important. 

Pinecone isn’t performing for Behind the Puddle. Stella and Stanley aren’t stopping by because they enjoy being characters in my stories. Shelly certainly doesn’t care whether I ever get a decent photograph. The birds don’t visit because I need something interesting to write about. They have lives entirely separate from mine. I simply have the privilege of witnessing a tiny part of them. The more I watch, the more that changes the way I think about this place.

When I first started paying attention, I naturally thought about the wildlife in terms of what they gave me, entertainment, curiosity, joy, something to watch and stories. But maybe respect begins when I recognize that their lives don’t need to benefit me in order to matter.

A bird matters even if I never see it. A turtle matters even if it stays on the other side of the puddle. A squirrel matters even when it steals the suet. Although we may need to continue discussing boundaries on that particular issue.

Every creature here is living a life from its own perspective. Looking for food. Finding shelter. Avoiding danger. Raising young. Resting. Surviving. Doing whatever it is that life asks of that particular creature.

There is something humbling about remembering that. I think humans are very good at assigning value. Useful. Productive. Successful. Independent. Contributing. We admire people who accomplish things. Who help others. Who work. Who create. Who remain active.

And those things can be wonderful. But they aren’t what makes a life worthy of respect. That’s something I think about often when people become ill, disabled, dependent, old, or unable to do what they once did. We can unintentionally begin measuring someone’s life by what has been lost. They can’t work anymore, can’t drive, can’t remember, can’t communicate the same way, can’t care for themselves, can’t contribute the way they once did. But ability and worth were never the same thing.

A person does not have to earn the right to matter. Neither through productivity nor independence. Neither through intelligence nor memory. Neither through how useful they are to anyone else. Maybe reverence begins there.

With recognizing a life before evaluating it. You are here. You matter. Not because of what you can do for me. Not because of what you have accomplished. Not because of how much of your former self, I can still recognize. Because you are a life. That idea reaches beyond people too. It changes how I think about the landscape.

The puddle doesn’t need to become a beautiful lake to deserve care. A tree doesn’t need to be perfectly shaped. An animal doesn’t need to be cute. Nature doesn’t need to entertain me.

Sometimes respect looks like leaving something alone. Giving it space. Watching from a distance. Creating conditions where life can exist without insisting that it interact with us. Maybe that’s why I have grown to appreciate the visitors I barely see as much as the ones who stay. They remind me that I am not the center of what happens here.

I’m simply one life among many. Sitting in a chair. Watching. Learning names when I can. Making up names when I can’t. Trying to share the space without believing everything in it belongs to me.

Yesterday I thought about mortality. That every life ends. Today I think perhaps that knowledge should make us more careful about how we regard the lives still here. Not sentimental. Not pretending every living thing is harmless or that nature is always gentle. Simply respectful. Because every life we encounter is experiencing its one life.

The bird. The squirrel. The neighbor. The stranger. The person whose abilities have changed. The person who cannot give us anything in return. Us.

Maybe reverence is simply remembering that none of us has to prove we are useful before our life deserves to be treated as though it matters.