Self-Certainty

By Earl Smith

As it happened, Racoon was resting on a sunny morning in a grassy area next to  Brook that Wanders Through the Woods. Her morning foraging had yielded two crawfish,  and a particularly nice young eel. She had fastidiously washed, then eaten, each. A satisfying ritual that, at least partially, lightened the burden she carried. A singular event  had brought into question her understanding of the world and her place in it. For two days, Racoon had put all her efforts into trying to unravel the mystery. 

The afternoon of that fateful day, she had been exploring along the edge of Pond.  Not that she needed a meal. Her two kits had grown. Gone off on their own. Her mate  would not seek her out until the next season came upon them. It was a comforting habit to occupy the time before dark and a return to her burrow. 

It began when her ears announced an imminent arrival. Her nose confirmed it.  Coyote, an old adversary, was coming up the path from Meadow. Racoon didn’t welcome  a meeting. She glanced down at the scar on her left hind leg. A torn ear was the fee  Coyote had paid for their foolishness. Both were earned on a cold, rainy day, during a fight over a bit of food that neither of them really wanted, nor needed. 

Racoon climbed high into the crown of an oak. Coyote, even should he detect her  presence, could not climb such trees. And so, she settled down to watch his passing in  comfort, and with no small measure of self-satisfaction.

A rustling in the bushes announced his arrival. She saw Coyote’s muzzle poke  through. There was a pause and suddenly a strange mist enveloped it. Then Raven  appeared. Awkwardly waddling into the clearing. She instantly lost all awareness of  Coyote. Her senses were, instead, immediately filled with those of Creator. As sure as  she was that Coyote was arriving, now Raven was undeniably there. The bird briefly  glanced in her direction before launching into the air and flying off over Brook and into  Forest. Then all was quiet. 

So began two discomforting days. At its core, her question was one of identity. She  was Racoon, and had never considered the possibility of being anything, or anyone, else.  It was her anchor. A holdfast to her understanding of the world. But that one experience  had drawn certainty into question. 

She could have decided that her senses had deceived her. That it wasn’t Coyote  who was arriving, but Raven. Or it could have been a trick. His reputation as a trickster  was well earned. But there was that mist, and the transformation. She had seen it clearly.  If Coyote was not Coyote but Raven, was Raven Coyote and not Raven? Or were they  both the same? What made Coyote becoming Raven possible? Or was it Raven unbecoming Coyote? 

After two days of such confounding questions, Racoon broke her fast, and decided  to remain in this place, with its sweet aromas and warming sun. Awaiting what she hoped would be a useful visitor. 

As she rested, lost in thought, a large, dark shadow flew across Brook to a branch above her head. Racoon’s attention snapped into sharp focus. Here was both the source 

of her conundrum and the one spirit who might unravel it for her. But there was a great  risk in this asking. In the past, she had asked Raven about his creation. His dream, as he  called it. And, mostly, Creator had been kind in his responses. But this was different. Her  question was about Raven himself. His nature. And Creator was always evasive when it  came to that topic. 

The bird ruffled his feathers and settled in. “I believe I have caused you discomfort,”  he said. “It might be helpful if we talked.” 

Racoon took some time before responding. “Discomfort is a faint way to describe  it. I hardly know where to start.” 

“Let’s start with what happened,” Raven responded. “You witnessed something  that I take pains to hide from my creations. It was my failure. Not being as careful as I  normally am. I had just enjoyed an invigorating romp through Meadow. Chased a family  of rabbits. And was full of those experiences when I emerged from the brambles. I did not  realize, until too late, that you were there.” 

“I am confused, Creator,” Racoon responded. “About what I saw. I was certain  Coyote was coming up the path. How could it be you and not Coyote? Could Coyote not  be coyote? But Raven? Could Racoon not be racoon? As I ask these questions, I am not  sure what they mean.” 

Raven clicked his beak and sighed. “What you saw is called shapeshifting. As  Creator, I have the ability to change into the form of those I have created. To become, for  short periods of time, who they have become. I remain who I am, but temporarily appear  to be them. The world sees me as Coyote. I move, act, sense and think as Coyote. But I 

remain who I am. This is possible because I retain something of my creation that all of its  inhabitants have lost.” 

“What do you mean by ‘who they have become?” Racoon asked. 

“As time advances, my original dream is extended by the dreamings of each of my  creations. The world, and all in it, is no longer as I dreamt it. But you, and all others, are  still bound by the fact that it is my dream.” Raven paused before going on. “One result of  your dreaming is the certainty that you are. That there is such a thing as Racoon  independent from all others. That you are yourself.” 

“That I exist and am Racoon?” 

“Truly yes,” came the reply. “And that is the source of the forgetting.” “What do you mean?” asked Racoon. 

“The farther your dream takes you from my original dreaming, the more difficult it  is for you to experience the interconnectedness of all things. The oneness of my creation.  The more you see yourself as separated from the rest, the more isolated, and alone, you  become.” 

“This is a strange way to look at things,” Racoon muttered. “You seem to be saying  that mine is a dream within your dream. That I can never escape yours. That mine will  ever take me farther away from it. And, that I have somehow lost track of something  essential to your dream.” 

“That is truly how it is,” Raven interrupted. “It can be no other way. The nature of  my dreaming has made it so.”

“I am confused,” Racoon said. “You mentioned something that you retain but we  all have forgotten. What is that?” Racoon asked. “You seem to be saying that my  forgetting, as you call it, is because I am becoming more of who I am. That what I am  forgetting is that I am not really Racoon?” 

“I understand that you are confused,” Raven offered. “But you are near the core of  it. In my dream, you are part of a great mosaic. Touching all other parts, and never apart  from any of them. In your dream within mine, you are Racoon. Different. Apart. The illusion  that you are Racoon is the great driving engine of my dream.” 

“What do you mean by that?” Racoon asked. 

“If my dream was all the same throughout, then it would have stayed as it was. But  there was a lumpiness about it. Parts. Differences that set it on a course of diffusion. I not  only created being, but a special kind of being that could evolve. Become what it might, independent of my original dreaming of it. And, with that, I created dreams that could go their own way.” 

“Why do you do this shape-shifting?” Racoon asked. 

“It is a way for me to experience directly what has become of all those from my  original dream,” Raven replied. “As coyote, I become alive to what Coyote has become.  It is the same for Rock, Tree, Pond, Thrush, or Wolverine. The experiences constantly  remind me I am less Creator than I was at the moment of creation. Experiencing how far  each has journeyed from my original dreaming of them.” 

“Can I remember? Touch that time of the dream when I felt the connections,”  Racoon asked. “Can I shapeshift?”

“Not shapeshift. But you can experience the interconnectedness of all things for  brief periods of time,” Creator responded. “If you clear your mind of everything Racoon,  the experience of oneness may come to you. If you forget that you are Racoon, you may  remember what it means to be interconnected with all things.” 

“Is it as simple as that?” she asked. “What would I find there? And would I be able  to find my way back? I have spent a lifetime becoming Racoon. Without that certainty, I  am not sure what I would become.” 

Raven smiled and nodded. “You are always, and ever, Racoon. It is not possible  for you to lose that. As to what you might find, perhaps a renewed reason for being.  Finding such a thing requires a deep, and often lengthy, time of reflection. But it can yield  benefits beyond value. Finding new value in your life, or in the things that make your life  worthwhile, is the highest search for all being. Clear your mind and let experience flow  where it will. There is nothing to lose and much to gain.” 

“You speak of gain,” Racoon said. “What do you mean?” 

“There is something in touching my dream that brings back the remembering of  the beginnings. An experience of what it was like, and indeed what it is still like, to be part  of it. For me, that connection is always there. But, for my creations, it is more remote with  every new dreaming. The path back remains. It requires only the determination to walk it. To find the renewing. To breathe it all in at once.” 

“And what might be lost?” Racoon asked. 

“A bit of your self-certainty,” Raven replied. “And maybe a lessening of your need  for it.”

The bird became quiet and then ruffled his feathers. “But now I am needed  elsewhere. I will leave you to your contemplations.” At that, Raven flew off over Brook  and into Forest. 

Raccoon settled into the sweet-smelling grass. She gradually cleared her mind of  all thoughts and focused on simply being in the moment. Hours seem to pass. Minutes  seemed to linger. Her heartbeat measured them out. Breathing became the rhythm of her  life force. At first it was difficult. But, with effort and quiet persistence, the thoughts drifted  away. It was at that moment of clarity that Grass began to speak to her for the first time  since she was a young kit. A new journey had begun. 

Question: What is Racoon’s new journey, and will you join her on it?

Earl Smith lives in Southwest Washington, DC. He has been a student of Buddhism since time out of mind. He combines native mythologies with Buddhist thinking: a synergy of worldviews that creates new insights. Earl is the author of several paranormal, action-adventure novels and a series of Zen parables. He also writes short stories and poetry drawn from his life experience.