Conscious

I hold no delusions of “roughing it” in the mountains this weekend even with absence of television and computer.  I hiked mildly rugged terrain wrapped snuggly in a coat and shod with warm leather boots.  I welcomed winter cold air that filled my lungs and chilled my nose pink knowing the loop trail would return to a cabin with electricity and hot water.  I am conscious of myself and my thoughts as I left urban surroundings for isolated higher elevations. 

The adjective conscious is defined at dictionary.com.
1.  aware of one’s own existence, sensations, thoughts, surroundings, etc.
2.  fully aware of or sensitive to something;  conscious of one’s faults
3.  having the mental faculties fully active:  conscious during an operation
4.  known to oneself:  conscious guilt
5.  aware of what one is doing:  a conscious liar

Mice are part of mountain trips.  We don’t ever actually SEE the creatures just their rice-sized droppings in a corner, beneath pillows, and under a sink cabinet collaged with bits of torn toilet tissue.  Some sweeping and bicker-banter about the inconvenience typically initiates my family to a mountain weekend. 

 

Not so this past weekend.  After the typical poo patrol we enjoyed a simple day capped off with cocoa.  While we slept, a rascally rodent climbed to my coat (an unsolved mystery since the coat was hanging on a wall hook far from the ground).  That little scamp found the fluffy lining of my coat’s hood, just as I do, compelling for comfort.  The mouse chewed a hole through the exterior and the lining then excavated pats of white fluff!  When I found the scene in the morning my words were full of fury.  I love that coat!  I’ve only had it one season!  Evil mouse! 

 

As I swept the mess I meditated on my surroundings and the situation.  I brought thoughts as questions.  Can I feel angry?  Yes.  Is a mouse criminal for being a mouse?  No.  Was the mouse conscious of destroying something that does not belong to him?  No.  Was I letting a mouse with no conscious thought ruin my morning?  Yes.  Could conscious watching of self identify the real problems:  assumption and attachment?  Yes.

 

Because we humans are conscious beings, we can watch ourselves.  My reaction sprang from attachment to a “perfect” coat.  My reaction was also rooted in assumption:  that ten noisy feet scared such critters away.  The mouse not only gnawed a hole in my coat but in my self-soothing false belief that mice only roamed the home when people were not in it. 

 

The truth:  I will uncomfortably accept cohabitating with mountain mice.  I will mend the coat and find it warming despite imperfection.  I embrace the tiny lesson in living as a conscious being.  Every self-watching moment serves us on a path to mindful, conscious living.  As we learn clear seeing of our own self, however small each glimpse might be, we become more aware of and sensitive to our actions. 

 

 

After Vexation

limbs stretch through a hole

sentient animal finds true

light shines on what is