8. THE MOUNTAIN LION
WHEN THE MOUNTAIN LION SHOWS UP, THERE IS A CHOICE TO BE MADE.
In late July 2006, a number of Generon colleagues and I were coleading a retreat in Montana for the Global Philanthropy Circle (GPC) founded by Peggy Dulaney, the chair of Synergos, and her father, David Rockefeller. GPC is a network of leading philanthropic families from across the world, committed to using their time, influence, and resources to fight global poverty and social injustice.
It had been a spectacular spring and summer that year in Montana – there was a profusion of wildflowers up where I was on solo for four days and three nights. My site was located just under Black Butte at 9,800 feet. There was a clear mountain stream originating out of the rock formation just under the butte, and the wildflowers were waist high all around the headwaters of the stream.
There were over forty species of flowers represented on the mountain that summer, Peggy told me. It seemed that all were there with me. The most predominant were the fuchsia bells – they were in profusion just beside the water. There were little yellow flowers everywhere, with their dark yellow center. Then there were very small flowers shaped like daisies, but they were lavender; and also huge flowers that resembled Texas bluebonnets, reminding me of the days as a young boy when my parents took us to the countryside in April to play and roll in the bluebonnets. And then there were the mosses of every shade of green – some that I would call “neon” green – spectacular in their own right. Finally there were tiny white “cluster daisies,” I called them – very small, growing in clusters of fifteen or twenty, each with their tiny yellow center. All of these were framed by gorgeous ferns that were very fine, like lace, and by various species of grass – elegant shapes in many shades of green.
I spent my days sitting alongside the stream, among all of these flowers and plants, looking southeast at the Wind River Range, which was over two hundred miles away in Wyoming. To my back, about fifteen or twenty meters away, was an area of all rocks – it was a rockslide rising sharply to the northwest formed of rocks that had fallen over the decades from the butte lying to the north.
About a half hour before dusk, all of a sudden I sat up with the impulse to walk behind me to the rockslide. I went with my instinct, but in the midst of doing so, I remember wondering, “Why am I doing this? The sound of the stream and the wildflowers are my perfect place. Why am I leaving it to go there?” But as I walked up the slide of rocks, I noticed a very large flat rock just in front of me – perhaps ten meters away. I saw something move on top of it and I stopped dead in my tracks. Was it a person? I couldn’t make it out; so I reached in my shirt pocket and put on my glasses, just as it was getting up. It was a mountain lion!
Standing frozen, I watched as she stood up on the rock, silhouetting herself against the sky. She stood motionless for a while, looking directly at me. Then she turned around on top of the rock, pirouetting as if to show me how beautiful and powerful she was. She did this twice, turning around fully as I locked in on her, transfixed. When she finished, she looked again directly at me fixing her gaze on my eyes. Then suddenly she turned west, and with a gigantic leap off the rock, she disappeared.
Immediately as she left, I used my two-way radio to contact the guides at the three solo sites about a half-mile west of me, directly in the path she was running. They never saw her.
I collected myself, sitting down, right there on the rocks where I had been standing. I stayed there for the longest time, stunned at the power of the mountain lion’s presence and by her beauty. The strongest image of her that remains is when she leapt off the rock. I learned later that the mountain lion can leap over forty feet, and I’m certain it was that far. It was an arc silhouetted against the sky, effortless and full of grace. And I’ll never forget her tail – it seemed almost as long as her body and carried a presence of its own.
I made my way down to the stream and the flowers, reflecting on my experience. Within just ten minutes, the thought came to me: “I know what to do.” I pulled out my little note pad from my shirt pocket and wrote: “”I will focus on a more evolved, more powerful model of the U-process. That is what I will devote the coming years to.”
When we returned to the high base camp the following day, I spoke to Tini and Wanda, the two guides who had first taken us to Black Butte on horseback four years earlier. Wanda, a Native American, was clear about this encounter: “We consider a meeting like that as a totem. We can live in these mountains a lifetime and never see a mountain lion – it’s a blessing to have met her. There’s an important lesson here; use it wisely.” Brian, who was part of our team, underscored what Wanda said and suggested some books that could help me.
I learned that the early Native American stories and myths speak of a magical time in which there were no boundaries between humans and animals. Always, the divine revealed itself in nature, through the ancient knowledge of spirit animals. The animals become our friends, our teachers, and our companions, and they speak to us through their appearances, behaviors, movements, and characteristic patterns. When we know what to look for, we can use them, as Wanda said, as totems for high knowledge and higher perception. They touch a primal part of our heart and soul – and stir long-dormant embers.
I learned that the mountain lion is one of the largest cats in the Western Hemisphere. It is one of the fastest and most powerful of all animals. The Native Americans said if the mountain lion shows up in your life, it’s time to focus on power. When she shows up as a totem, much of the trial has been worked through – now is the time to assert and be prepared to grow past the status quo. When the mountain lion shows up, there is a choice to be made. This choice should be made quickly and strongly, but asserted gently. The mountain lion teaches self-efficacy – to take charge of one’s life circumstances effectively, and to do so in a mindful way.