Just a Frog

     Every year in August and September we are delighted to see a number of tiny lime green tree frogs on the outside of our sunroom windows as the sun sets. They are so smart…they hang around those windows because we have lights on inside, which attract tiny bugs. Pete and I are easily amused. We spend time watching these frogs. They wait, still as statues with only their little throats vibrating in and out, until suddenly…snap! Their skinny little tongues dart out of their mouths and snap up any loitering gnats.
     During tree frog season we are careful not to squish any of them in the window or trap them between the window and the screen overnight. Recently one evening before going to bed, I cranked the living room window shut and didn’t give it a thought because it was October and we thought the frogs were gone. The next morning I went to open the same window. As I looked down at the base of the window, I was horrified. I slowly turned the crank and there he was. A bright green tree frog who now had a left hind leg that had turned a shriveled gray and hung there like a limp string. I had inadvertently closed the window on his little leg! His eyes were open and his little throat was still going. “I’m so sorry!” Sadness hung over me like a fragrance as I realized I had harmed this tiny being. He must have struggled all night to try to free his leg.
     I stood by the window for a long time and sorrowfully watched my lame little friend. I thought maybe he’d just fall off the window ledge. He didn’t. Instead, he proceeded to hop up the entire length of window with his string leg dragging behind him as if this were no big thing. I was astonished. I know some people would say to me, “Oh, Karen, it’s just a frog. It doesn’t really matter in the big scheme of things.” Well, it matters to that frog. I know I didn’t mean to harm him, but I felt terrible that I caused him to suffer.
     We humans sometimes blow our own little troubles out of proportion, allowing our problems to stop us from living our purpose. We lose our passion for the things we love. This tiny frog had a huge difficulty and he just dragged it behind him as if it were all going to be okay. I don’t know what happened to him or if he made it, but he taught me something.
     So I ask you this…are your troubles stopping you from being in your life? Are you continuing on up the window despite your difficulties? I know that the next time something is bothering me, I will think of my tiny lime green friend, his perseverance, his courage, and his will to continue on up the window on three legs, even though he was “just a frog.”

A summer tree frog

Acceptance

     Repeatedly the I-Ching tells me that modesty, gentleness, and acceptance are the some of the keys to staying in balance. Modesty I understand. I admit that gentleness is taking me a bit longer, particularly in reference to not being hard on myself. I am getting there. Acceptance…hmmm…this is a tough one. Being IN each moment; staying present with what is and not trying to aggressively change things; seeing the beauty and recognizing the lesson provided in every single moment…without resistance. Seriously, this is hard.
     Recently my days have been filled with fatigue and body aches. As usual, our animals, the wise sages that they are, gently remind me about true acceptance. These four leggeds and winged ones keep me moving, present, and sane. So I haul my tired self out to the barn several times each day and dole out carefully decided proportions of hay to each of our girls. In doing so, I notice Willow, our 28 year-old chestnut beauty, hobble over to her hay pile with sheer delight. She reminds me of a child tasting ice cream for the first time. Her eyes are lit up and her whole being is smiling, even though she is completely lame with arthritis in one hind leg, has Cushing’s Disease, and cataracts. Willow does not let these serious issues become larger than her love for her hay, fondness of her friends, or joy in her life. As she lowers her head and begins to sample the delicacy before her, she closes her eyes and truly tastes each bite. She has immersed herself in the moment of delight in her food. I crouch down. I watch. I listen to the melody of all the horses chewing. My heart swells and I become lost inside this moment, forgetting my own aches. Willow is a constant reminder to me that my own issues in my body do not have to be so loud all the time. The simple joys are always there and I can recognize and appreciate them more easily when I am in a state of acceptance. After all, joy is what it’s all about, isn’t it?