Yesterday a friend and I went to have tea at a favorite tea house, only to find it closed for summer vacation. I was surprised to find that a coffee house had recently opened next door. We checked it out and found they had, in addition to all the usual coffee concoctions, a wonderful selection of teas. When we wondered about moving outside, they showed us the patio behind — mossy & walled like a magical secret garden. And, next to that, a space filled with trees & ferns — shadier & more open to the breeze that was gentling the morning’s heat. An enchanted oasis, hidden behind a row of shops on a fairly serene commercial street.

No one else was there. Surprised & captivated, we dried off two chairs — still wet from the previous day’s very brief but very welcome rain — and sat down. We drank our tea (mine, mango-peach mixed with strawberry-lemonade – yum!) and shared an almond cookie. It was a calm and quiet time… exploring, as always when we get together, the thoughts, feelings, and discoveries that had emerged since our last conversation. Among other things, we talked about the hawk that had bumped my house and been briefly grounded.

As we were nearing the end of our time together, my friend looked behind me and exclaimed, “What is that?! It’s the biggest insect I’ve ever seen — big enough to be a mammal!” I turned & looked — crawling across the flagstones was what appeared to be a very large black beetle. I went closer to look. It was a mammal — a bat — injured or ill — slowly dragging himself along on his hooked hands (elbows?), his wings only slightly flared along his body…. He hobbled slowly but with determination — heading always to the south, as if he had a destination in mind. He showed no signs of the devastating white-nose syndrome, but something was deeply wrong. I was swept up in what felt like a tsunami of compassion as I watched. Poor bat, I found myself repeating, poor little bat…. I watched for a time — not only seeing but feeling the pain of his small progress — immobilized by and drowning in love and sorrow.

My first impulse was to take him to a wildlife rehabilitation center for evaluation, but my time as a volunteer at the Wildlife Center of Virginia had taught me that bats were not on the list of welcome guests. So I did nothing.

The bat had, in spite of his infirmity & hobbled gait, a profound dignity. I think I hoped he could drag himself to the corner of the “secret garden” so he could recover or die in privacy, as peacefully as possible.

We went into the coffee house to report the bat so they could call animal control. Numb, I didn’t wait to see what happened…… I wish I had.

******

This morning the local newspaper reported that a bat from another part of town had tested positive for rabies — the 9th rabid animal in the county this year.

At that point, I began to wonder why we hadn’t just called animal control ourselves. ….I think I’d forgotten that I even had a phone with me — as if the ache of compassion had temporarily shut down my rational brain, made me as helpless as the bat.

And it wasn’t until I started to type this that it occurred to me that I could have gotten lots of photos of the bat. The thought never entered my mind as I watched him — and anyway, why would I take a photo of another being’s misery? Of course, I know that such photos have ignited a larger awareness of crisis situations & wrongs committed, have led to positive action — to healing and change. But somehow this bat’s suffering did not feel emblematic of some larger story. It felt to me as if a recording of his plight would be an invasion of his right to privacy. ….. I still don’t know what was happening in me, what his presence provoked…..

Unlike so many others, I was neither revolted nor frightened by the bat’s presence. I have always found bats fascinating and, as I’ve learned & experienced more, that fascination has grown into a deep fondness and respect. Now I cannot shake loose the vision of that little bat, limping fiercely forward.

As always, Life leaves me with questions rather than answers. Obviously, I have much to learn about my odd response to this encounter, my lack of direct action. And now I am left with more wonderings: Two encounters with winged beings who have been grounded — the hawk briefly; the bat no doubt permanently. These were living individuals, each with his own unique awareness of being. And yet, how easily my mind seizes them, transforms them to metaphors with larger meanings….. to stories that can only be told in their fullness in fairy tales or poems….

BEN OKRI writes:

"Which brings the question: what is reality?
Everyone's reality is different.  For different perceptions of reality
we need a different language.
We like to think that the world is rational and precise and 
exactly as we see it, but
something erupts in our reality which makes us sense that
there's more to the fabric of life.
I'm fascinated by the mysterious element that runs through our lives."

And this morning from https://grateful.org/ :

Word for the Day

"This is a time for straying, 
for losing one’s way, 
for asking new questions. 
A sacred activism. 
A slowing down that knows 
enchantment is not in short supply."

— Bayo Akomolafe