I’m delighted to write to you from the new platform, lifeiscoachingyou.com. Welcome.

The wind had died down enough for me to walk the paved path round a nearby pond.  I bundled up in my scarf and sweater coat and headed towards the cornfields.

Shortly after beginning the first loop, I was jostled from my thoughts by the sound of a goose. I peered through the brush to find a solitary bird floating on the water, honking in distress. 

I wondered about the goose’s story.  Was it lost, injured, or left behind?  I began quietly singing a sacred word that brings me peace and silence. This allows me to perceive inner guidance and surrender the outcome of a situation at the same time. If any action were necessary on my part, I’d know. 

As I rounded the far end of the park, the goose’s cries subsided. Its voice sounded tired.  I kept walking and singing softly with a compassionate heart.

On the third loop, a flock of loudly cawing crows passed overhead, landing across the pond by the parking lot.  Perhaps two dozen birds peppered the grassy area.  They didn’t land for long, but flew upwards again, together. 

The goose was quiet.  The distress call had been heard.

The landscape took on a slow motion quality that I notice when I’m experiencing a gift moment. I registered the response from the crows who’d come to help a member of their community.  Time stood still.  Gazing further skyward, I saw a singular hawk circling.

The crows flew back across the pond, continuing southwest over the field and calling out as they departed.  Would their cries alert another flock to come pick up the lone goose?

As I ended my third lap ready to cross the street to my neighborhood, I heard the goose honk again. I wondered if my part in the story was complete.

At that moment, a man approached walking a dog.  Fit and slim, in athletic wear with a woolen hat, he smiled warmly at me. 

I stopped him to ask, “Do you know anything about geese?”

I realized how ridiculous that sounded—coming from out of the blue—once I’d heard the question aloud.

“Not much more than seeing them around a lot,” he answered somewhat warily. “Why do you ask?” 

I told him of the lone goose and my concern that it might be separated from its flock.  He assured me that flocks come through this area all the time. 

“My family calls this Goose Poop Pond,” he admitted wryly. “I’m sure he’ll have company soon.” 

I felt complete—and as heard as the goose’s distress call.

Walking home, I was struck by how well Life cares for us all.  The crows came to help the goose; the dog walker came to assist me.  The hawk circled.

When we’re in service to one another, does our interconnectedness become more visible? 

I invite your insights or experiences below.