The Buffalo

When I was a little girl my family lived in Idaho for a few years. For part of that time we lived in a home that was on the property of an exotic animal farm. I was probably 8 or 9 years old when we moved there. As a child, it was a place of adventure filled with animals from peacocks and llamas in the back yard to laying in bed at dawn and dusk listening to the roar of the tiger ordering everyone to rise or sleep as if he was king of the jungle. But by far, my favorite animal in the place was the heard of bison that literally lived just a strong wooden fence away from my back yard.
The other animals were fun to be around, but they were not like the buffalo to me. The buffalo pulled at me and drew me to them. At first, I would stand in the yard peeking through the holes in the fence to watch them. I remained mostly invisible to them doing that, but they still knew I was there. I remember once peeking through the knot hole in the wood to have a giant animal staring through the hole back at me through the other side. When our eyes met, the beast blew a loud burst of air though its nostrils that made me jump and flatten my back against the fence. When I gathered the courage to look again all I saw was the backside of the animal walking lazily away as if it had been unaffected by the encounter. I was not.
My curiosity grew stronger every day. I soon became unsatisfied by the limited view from the hole and began exploring for a way to get a better view. The fence was made of large thick poles that were circular like a tree trunk with flat but worn planks in between. As a girl I was quit the tom boy, constantly coming in the house with salamanders and stray cats for pets and cockle burrs in my hair. so, it wasn’t long before I found a way to climb that fence and peek over the top. It took even less time to figure out that I could scale the fence and sit on top of the big round fence post and that, was my place.
I went there often just to watch the herd. I rarely spoke to them out loud. I didn’t feel like I needed to. If you look a buffalo in the eyes, they are talking to you already. The big animals never seemed bothered by me. They became as used to me as the little birds that would flit about on the farm. My mother however was very bothered by my favorite perch at first and if she ever saw me up there, quick orders to “get down before I got stomped to death” were given. However, her words of concern and caution didn’t detour me. I continued to be pulled to the beasts. I could not tell you how many exactly were in the large fenced in area anymore, but I would guess 30 to 40. It varied with the farm needs and the seasons.
My favorite time was when the mamas and the babies were there. I used to race to the fence every morning to see how many had been born in the night. I could not say how many babies I saw come into this world, but I can say it was a great many. I think of my time with that herd of bison often. Even though I was a young girl, life had already taught me a few lessons I would never forget. My perch on that fence became a place of peace for me a place of solace. Sitting on that fence watching those animals taught me lessons that I use in my life even still today. I often tell people that the buffalo is my spirit animal. Usually when I am being accused of being “beast like” myself.
Buffalo are a strong beastly animals. You do not mess with an animal like that, they will tear you up. But at the same time, they are tender with those they are close to and protect their young to the death. They protect the herd. Nothing stops a buffalo once its mind is set on a path. Stubborn as hell. At the same time, I have seen them run across a field kicking their heals when the mood strikes them. A buffalo does not worry about being itself. It is proudly a buffalo regardless of other’s opinions. It has curves and muscles and wild hair and that is it’s majesty, never its weakness. I have a canvas picture in my office of a buffalo covered in fluffy white snow but still marching forward steadfast and unmovable. They have survived circumstances that would have wiped them out completely. They carry that with them somehow and their heritage and that is what makes them so untouchable now.
If you come to my work office, you will see the canvas of a single buffalo. It hangs on the wall above my yoga mat. I realize most people have a meditation canvas or a chakra poster and the humor is not lost on me when I focus in on that picture to relax my mind.
Some days in Lyme are long and hard. In those times I often find myself sitting cross legged centered on my mat facing that picture. Its sitting in front of that picture that I remember how strong I am, that I am a survivor. Its where I remember to be patient with myself and exercise grace. Its where I remember my own strength and stubbornness. Its where I refocus on the paths I walk. Its where I practice letting go of the things that no longer serve me and hold tightly to the lessons that do. Its where I remember who I am and where I have come from. Its where I gather the strength to be steadfast and unmovable. It is where I remember that being myself is not something, I need anyone else’s approval to do. Its where I breath. Its my fence post.