I woke early this morning. Not my choice; my dog Dolly decided it was a good time to get up. No matter what the weather, the view in the mornings from where I live always has something to leave me feeling grateful.
As the sun rose behind me this morning, a building in the far distance on the horizon caught the golden light of the morning sun. It beamed at me from across the river. It wasn’t only the visual beauty of this that caught my attention; it was the moment. At this very moment, on this day, at this time, this building was glowing in golden light, perfectly aligned to hit me square in the eye. Maybe this only ever happens at this time once a year. Now it’s no Stonehenge, but is it not equally as special?
This moment prompted me to be present. I then noticed the birds and the trees all radiating with the glow of the morning sun. I was there.
As I stood in this moment, amazed at all of this wonder going on around me, it reminded me of Quite Frankly. Quite Frankly is a daily online radio show. Frank, the host, covers all manner of alternative themes and topics. He’s a super lovely guy who interviews people from all walks of life and has a real gift for communicating.
Once a year, he calls a show “The Deer Scene.” This Deer Scene show references the “Deer Scene” from the film Stand by Me, based on the story The Body by Stephen King. It’s about a group of boys on an adventure to find a dead body. Within the book and film, there is a moment when one of the boys ventures from their temporary camp in the early morning. He wanders up to some train tracks and sits to read a comic book. As he sits there, a deer crosses his path, and they share a moment. They just look at each other in silence, and the deer then goes on its way. He decides not to tell the other boys when he returns to camp. He naturally feels into the personal nature of his encounter—special only to him, and maybe if he shares it, it will lose some of its power. It’s a pure moment untouched by thought—just him and another being sharing the same space for a brief moment in time. A connection that cannot be explained but felt at a deep level.
Frank invites his listeners to call in with their own “Deer Scene” moments. He frames these moments as something quite ordinary from the outside but deeply special to the individual. It’s magic in the mundane.
The calls come in, and inevitably, some people don’t get it. Tales of UFOs while on drugs, fantastical stories with synchronicities abound, but all the while, they miss the point. It’s magic in the mundane. Just a moment that could have been witnessed by many but was special to you and you alone. Maybe no one around would even notice. Frank always handles the callers who miss the essence with grace, kindness, patience, and humour. It’s a gift he has.
To try and get the topic back on track, he once told his own story, his own personal “Deer Scene.” While on holiday with his wife, he decided one morning to get up early to watch the sunrise. He walked down to the beach, sat alone, and waited for the sun. As it rose and welcomed him, it left him in awe. I love the way he described it; he said it made him feel almost uncomfortable and embarrassed to be there alone with the sun. Just the sun and himself having a moment together. And that’s what it truly was—beautiful.
On occasion, he does get some gold from his callers. I don’t remember them all, but I know I have been left in tears.
Frank’s own story also reminds me of a story Carl Jung tells of a Native Mexican tribe he once visited. The elders of this tribe would sit upon the roofs of their homes every morning and evening to watch the sun rise and set, never missing a day. When he asked why, he was told that maybe one day, if no one else was there to witness the sun, then it may not return for another day. So they would always be there to witness. I loved this. The idea that creation only exists if we are here to witness it is a deeply held belief in many spiritual traditions. Also, quantum physicists point to this truth with the observer phenomenon.
Regardless of the proof from science, I know this feeling. It’s to be a witness to all that is. If only those elders truly knew how many missed these moments, they would maybe feel validated. I mean truly there to witness the sun rise and fall. Not a selfie on the phone or a fleeting glance and comment, but truly being present in the moment with the sun.
When I hear these stories from Frank and his callers, I want to let them know that these moments could be experienced more often. We don’t need to be somewhere special or lucky to witness the miracles of life. It just requires us to be there fully. I’ve never called in and voiced these feelings as I wouldn’t want to come across like a pretentious spiritual twat. Nonetheless, it is a true statement.
I’ve had my own moments over the years—encounters that hit me at a very deep level. All in very ordinary places. If you’d asked me ten years ago what my top five moments in life were, I would have told you of a conversation I once had with a little boy. A seemingly ordinary moment that had a profound effect on me.
After a country walk with my dog, I would often end at this little café in the park. I’d have my cheese on toast with a cup of tea. One of those days, as I sat there on a busy Sunday afternoon, a young boy aged about 6 or 7 came over and asked if he could stroke my dog. I said yes. He then crouched down on the ground next to Dolly, stroking her so gently he barely even touched her. He then just rested his head against hers and held her in his arms with his eyes closed. Totally free from any thought, it was just Dolly and him in a pure moment of love. I was blown away. I just sat in silence and watched. I could feel the energy from this boy; he was so clear of thought and ego, it allowed him to just be.
While still sitting there with Dolly, he slowly opened his eyes, and we started to talk. All sorts of interesting topics came up: owning pets, hamsters dying, and where do they go; dogs, responsibility, and his mum. It was just delightful. He then went to fetch his mum to meet me. I explained what a wonderful son she had. She already knew how special he was. When I asked his name, at first I thought he said Connor; he corrected me and said it was Comma. I asked, “What, like the punctuation?” He replied, “Yes, my mum loves to write.”
That name wasn’t lost on me. Comma: a moment to pause, breathe, the space between.
This seemingly ordinary moment—just a conversation. Nothing big, but yet it landed in my top five moments of my life. How come? I don’t truly know, but what I do know is that I was present to it. Maybe his natural state of presence helped me find mine. Maybe an old soul came to welcome me to my new life. I was fairly new to my spiritual practice, but I was actively engaged with it at the time, trying to quieten my mind and be present. Maybe he was there to help.
To be around someone who is so in the present moment—a human being who has the ability to be lost in thought but somehow chooses not to—is a gift. He shared that and showed me how. And it stuck.
That encounter and feeling held such weight for me that I once shared this story with my dad, and it brought him to tears. It wasn’t so much the words but what was felt. He could feel it as I shared my experience. It touched into so many feelings: our own loss of innocence and purity. To see ourselves in that boy. The ability to just be free to love. The man and boy, the father and son. An archetypal story as old as time itself.
Since then, I’ve had many encounters like this with lots of living things and beautiful souls. I think I have learnt to be less in my own way, quieter, and less judgmental. To truly be there with another soul. It’s not been easy for me. I’ve met people who are naturally more present. They just came in that way. I’m a thinker trying to think less; I’m a talker trying to talk less.
This idea of a “Deer Scene” moment is wonderful. Yet I know we could all have so many more of these; in fact, I think they are happening every second of every day—we’re just not always there to witness them.
If only we could all try to quieten down somewhat and bring these moments into being. To witness them may be our only true purpose. Perhaps if they go unnoticed, they never really exist. Creation itself asks us to create with our very own being.
MC
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