I asked if I might share the snake’s experience for a few minutes, and after a pause I heard, “You are welcome.”
Here’s what happened: hearing the wind/breeze whistling overhead. A pressure on my sides/ribs, like being held (but not squeezed) from the outside. Conscious of being exposed to the elements above me. Quite aware/careful of the tip of my tail. Sidelong looks at whatever is above me, a repeated thought. Would like to be in warm sunlight, but I need to stay put for now. Also, I want to scurry despite feeling I must stay put. My nose is so sensitive to breezes across it.
That’s it. I forgot to thank the snake till just now.
Regards, Liz

I have a much easier game planned for next month, don’t worry.

****

I almost wish I hadn’t decided to play this one, myself. It is a bit harder to get around the distractions of life and just open up to “anyone” who wants to share. However, the creature that let me in, when I realized who I was experiencing the world through, hasn’t been one that’s been our family’s best friend lately. I had to set aside a personal grudge and let my heart open up to real gratitude when I thanked him for his hospitality. Ouch, why did I phrase it like that?

Anyway. I got quiet and reached outward and opened up to any animal which would like to share experience with me. I found myself hyper-aware of my surroundings, nervous, twitchy. Smells were enormous, sounds amplified, and I could “feel” the vibrations of all life around me through my skin and through my whiskers. An entire huge sector of my being was focused on finding food. The leaves, moldy and old and damp, were above me as I rummaged around in the humus, digging, moving in short bursts. I would sit still then, perfectly still, the only motion in my body the buzzing of my “sensors”, which were located at the end of my muzzle. Then I would dart again through the leaves and forest undergrowth. At one point I found an old maple seed pod that had begun to sprout, and gnawed the tender seed out of it. I could see my tiny white paws holding the seed, and realized at that point that I was a mouse.

The seed tasted bitter … my human tongue went “ew”, but the mouse tongue loved the flavor, and I allowed myself to experience the sense of satisfaction as I ate it down to nothing.

At that, I thanked the mouse (again, as our family home has been battling a major increase in the mouse invasion forces this year, I had to set aside personal feelings first) and “stepped away” to let him continue his adventures.

Now, we catch the mice in live traps and return them to the forest, so I don’t really have to battle guilt about having killed the little fellow’s relatives. And at least I connected with one in the woods rather than in our WALLS.

However, I find it very interesting that the species who offered to “host” me is one we have been unwillingly “hosting” ourselves of late!

(Anyone know a good mouse repellent that won’t hurt them? Those sonic things are worthless.)

Remember, everyone, there’s no “right or wrong” in these games. The goal is the experience!

This “who am I” game is a gentle one that, if you play it occasionally, and let your heart open up at its own pace, and in its own good time, might help you to receive such “volunteer impressions” without judging. It’s all a process, and will move forward in the time that is just right for the Spiritual You!