A Visitation

On this last day of June, when the ground under my proverbial feet feels less than solid, I remember with gratitude the visitation from a deer a few weeks ago. It was a rare sighting, to say the least, since I was nowhere near woods. In fact, the Atlantic Ocean surrounded me on three sides, since I stood in the backyard of my summer cottage on the peninsula called Hull, located on the south shore of Boston. The closest woods here are separated from land by a sliver of salt water called “the Gut” ––where the calm waters of the bay meet the swirling ocean currents. I’ve heard that deer are excellent swimmers, and some neighbors speculated that this one swam from Peddocks Island, on the other side of The Gut, to arrive in our neighborhood. But what about her fawn, spotted alone sometime later, huddling on the grass next to a cottage up the street? 

I use the word “visitation” advisedly. Whenever I have spotted deer, either near-by or from afar, I have always been struck by their grace and self-assured calm––never as strongly as on this most recent encounter. Let me explain. I had pre-empted my usual seasonal arrival in Hull to initiate a brief, solo writing retreat of sorts. For five days, I spent each day and most evenings in solitude, intermittently working on the first draft of the memoir I’ve been writing for the past few years. When not writing, I puttered inside and on the grounds of this seasonal home that holds my personal history, from the age of three to the present, seventy years later. It is here where earliest memories of family fun occasionally surface, especially when my brother and I engage in reminiscing about our childhood summers when he visits each year. At this same cottage, some sixty+ years ago,  my mother, my brother and I tragically launched a new life chapter as trauma survivors, on the evening when my uncle delivered the shocking news of my father’s suicide that had occurred hours earlier at our winter home.

The morning of the deer sighting, I had stepped into my backyard to take a break from reworking a particularly challenging chapter. When this creature and I met eye-to-eye. I stilled my body to match its statuesque posture, as I gingerly reached into my pocket to excavate my cell phone. I snapped a few photos, and as it sauntered away, I took the video linked to this post. Then I returned inside to research the spiritual symbolism of deer, and found the following:

Deer are often associated with spiritual significance¹²³⁴. Some common symbolic meanings of deer include abundance, rebirth, innocence, sensitivity, and opening the heart¹. Deer symbolize gentleness, kindness, renewal, and spiritual awareness². They also represent wisdom, intuition, and spiritual guidance, reminding us to let go of what no longer serves us³. In spiritual practices, the deer is often seen as a guide, leading individuals on a path of self-discovery and spiritual growth.*

*https://innerhunches.com/herd-of-deer-meaning/

Keeping my heart open, releasing whatever negative energies no longer serve me, erasing a lifetime’s worth of habitual negativity and criticism, have become recent goals to which I am now devoted. Disappointingly, all too often I revert to old behavior patterns that contradict my intentions, causing harm to those on the receiving end. On such occasions, I am filled with remorse and shame. 

On that morning, encountering this deer, so imbued with grace and calm energy, felt like a visitation meant to remind me to continue the “path of self-discovery and spiritual growth” to which I am dedicated, despite my many stumbles.