My spirit animal

In certain spiritual traditions or cultures, spirit animal refers to a spirit which helps guide or protect a person on a journey and whose characteristics that person shares or embodies. It is also a metaphor, often humorous, for someone or something a person relates to or admires. Dictionary.com

Reincarnation: a person or animal in whom a particular soul is believed to have been reborn. Oxford Languages

I doubt that I am the only person who speculates about an afterlife. Since it is getting closer every year, perhaps I am thinking about it more often. I rather doubt that one’s soul either enters a cloud and harp-filled heaven or a pitchfork and brimstone-filled hell. And I’d like to believe that the atheist sentiment of a belly flop into a void is not a sound prediction either.

Reincarnation sounds appealing. Shortly after I take my last breath, I will find myself standing in front of a long counter where I am expected to make a choice: “As what animal would you like to be reborn? Your karma is not good enough for another human life, I’m afraid.” Large photo albums allow one to select from anything from paramecia to gorillas.

Before traveling to the Galapagos islands, I believed that should I be reincarnated as an animal, I would like to come back as a pampered house cat. While I cannot be described as a “crazy cat person,” I have had a number of pet cats in the past. My mother, grandsons, and friends have house cats that they treat very nicely indeed. I enjoy a cat sitting on my lap while I stroke its back or rub its ears. I appreciate cats’ independent attitudes and lack of conscience over their lack of ambition. House cats for the most part are neutered, but perhaps a lack of sexual drive might lead to greater happiness and contentment (in humans as well). And one gets to be a finicky eater.

But then in the Galapagos I got to watch sea lions frolic on the beaches. These large, wild beasts seemed to have absolutely no cares in the world. The odd male did defend his 30-40 member harem now and then, but for the most part, the sea lions just slept, flopped about a bit, and cavorted in the waves lapping up on the beach. They even looked like they were having a good time underwater looking for fish to eat when I watched them while snorkeling. A carefree life without the confines or strictures placed on one who has an owner! Might the life of a sea lion be preferable to that of a house cat?

But then my last week in Ecuador was spent at a lodge where I met Ami, the resident dog. She was old, very sweet, friendly, and as the photo above shows, quite relaxed. She made herself at home in the dining area, in the bar, and on the deck outside my room. She was grateful for the treats I shared with her and was able to give me a look that made me feel guilty when I only gave her a single doggie meat stick.

But what made me consider a dog like Ami as my spirit animal was that she also had a job, a purpose at the lodge. She was the guard dog. She spent the nights with the human guard who patrolled the property. She moved (sleeping) locations throughout the day. The owners told me that when she spent the afternoon on my deck, it was because she liked me and was protecting me. I am positive her affection came from my personality rather than the treats I gave her.

Something tells me that we may have little choice in the matter of how we spend an afterlife, should there be one. Perhaps my future cockroach body is already in the works somewhere. But should I be given a choice, maybe a dog with a job might be an excellent body to inhabit the next go-round.

Comforts of home

9 Mile Creek - hiking in the cold and ice

I’m back home in Minnesota after spending four weeks in Ecuador. What in the hell was I thinking coming back so soon? 

The two hikes I’ve done since getting home were on icy paths, among those few that were not closed for cross country skiing. The wind and air temperature made staying warm without working up a sweat a challenge. Few other walkers were out and about.

High temps this coming week will mostly be in the single digits (some above and some below zero). A major snowstorm is predicted. Politics, COVID, gun violence, Russian aggression, dismal stock market performance, teacher strikes, and inflation dominate the headlines this last week of February.

During my stay in Cuenca and Vilcabamba, I met quite a few US and Canadian expats. They were in Ecuador for the long haul - either all winter or even all year. Ecuador’s climate, low cost of living, and political stability were the primary draws. I figured I could stay at the Izhcayluma resort for about $80 a day, $2400 a month (room, two meals, bottle of wine, laundry, and a 75-minute massage). Nice houses, I was told, could be rented in Cuenca for less than $500 a month. I met a woman who has been house-sitting in Central and South America over the past few years, not just avoiding paying rent, but getting paid to live in a warm place. I found the people of Ecuador friendly, the infrastructure sound, the streets safe, and my minimal Spanish=speaking abilities adequate. I thought it interesting that I had less problem getting wifi to my phone via a local SIM card in Ecuador than I did in Germany last summer. My local newspapers, books, and writing tools traveled with me digitally, of course. 

Yet, yet…

I don’t think I could be an expat - either permanently or even as a snowbird. I came home not just to the cold, but to friends, favorite restaurants, my comfy bed, my old recliner, and activities I enjoy. I missed coffee I brewed myself and wine I had selected. I missed the regulars for whom I provide volunteer rides and the other volunteers with whom I grocery shop each week. I missed my weekly walks with my buddy. It was comforting going to the supermarket this morning and cruising the aisle for the perishables, knowing where they will be. It was good to hear familiar voices on Minnesota Public Radio. It was good to hear the click and whoosh of the furnace as it kicked on.

Of course, I am already planning future trips. Short ones to see family in Iowa and Kansas City. And even more adventurous ones with Heidi. As much as I love home, cold weather and all, I love anticipating the next journey as much.

A house on a mountain top

Traveling through Ecuador, I am always amazed by the houses perched high above roads and cities. For the most part, the portion of the country I’ve been in the last two weeks has been in the Andes. In both the towns and in the countryside, few mountain views come without having a dwelling or two in them.

I wonder just how life is, especially for the rural residents, living so high up. Many places seem to not even have trails to them, let alone a road for a car or truck. I wonder how (or if) they get clean water, electricity, internet, or sewage disposal. Do people actually hand carry jugs of clean water and groceries up those steep slopes? How did they get the building materials, appliances, and furniture up there in the first place? Obviously it is possible since such homes are so common.

There must be some wonderful advantages to living perched high on a mountain: the views, the quiet, the wildlife, the privacy, the sense of independence. But are they worth the cost?

I grew up in one of the flatter parts of rural Iowa. I’ve lived most of my life in southern Minnesota, also flat. A steep hill in both areas is a thrill. So mountains and being in them is still mysterious to me. Do the mountain-dwellers wonder how we low-landers survive the chaos and noise?