Leopards don't like crowds

Yeah, the Museum of Natural History has awesome dinosaurs and scary cavemen and huge whales, but I was struck by its irresponsible and perhaps dangerous depiction of the African leopard. Here it rests daintily on a tree branch, contemplating the circle of life and smiling at the crowds of people who watch from below. This is not right. Leopards do not like crowds. Here is how I know.

We were on safari in Uganda, riding through the park in the back of a Land Rover. Signs everywhere warned, "Do not leave road! Dangerous animals!" Our guide, a nice park ranger, did not obey the signs. She spotted a leopard in a tree and immediately pulled the car off the road and toward the animal. As we got closer, the beast grew more uneasy. He slowly and smoothly pushed himself up on his paws, and soon he was perched on the branch and ready to pounce. There we were, staring up at the leopard from the open sun roof, inviting him into our car. He looked at us with disgust and embarrassment. Not our brightest move. 

We escaped before he struck, but I knew we were lucky. 

("He's right there!!")

("I'm sorry, do you idiots need anything?")

 

(Getting ready to pounce.)

The boy with the smile

My dear friend Reagan just sent this message and these photos. David and I met him while I taught classes at a "library" for orphans or kids whose parents were too poor to afford proper school. He won my heart with his huge smile and his wiggly hips. He taught me how to dance like a Ugandan.

My mom now pays for Reagan to attend school, so periodically we receive photos and report cards. He is an excellent student, and his teachers are full of praise. With schooling he can grow and learn and have the opportunity to care for his family. Look at his sweet little outfit and his sneaky smile:

Last time we saw each other he was just learning his ABCs! I hope I get to see him soon. I want to tell him how proud I am and talk about how much he has grown. I want to meet his mother and hold his siblings. But most of all, I want to see that smile again.

A chunk of my heart

Today I am missing my friends. Not the ones I turn to when I'm sad or the ones I like to cuddle and chat with, but the ones who stole a chunk of my heart in Uganda a few summers ago. The ones who escaped war in their own country and are attempting to make a life in an unfamiliar one. The ones who don't even know how important they are to me. The ones I want to hug and just sit with and be still.

The ones who send emails saying, "Thanks for loving us and still be in contact with me. Greeting to Dv and you too." They send other emails too, saying, "Hey my best how are U. Here we are fair. We have our friend Amos sick from TB. Good bye, yours Johnny." These are the emails I fear. I am overwhelmed.

My spirit longs to comfort and empathize and say that it will be okay. Amos will get better and you will be well and you will make beautiful music that will make the world dance and sing.

But all I do is pray. And not often enough.

We clasp the hands of those who go before us
And the hands of those who come after us.

We enter the little circle of each other's arms

And the larger circle of lovers,

Whose hands are joined in a dance,

And the larger circle of all creatures,

Passing in and out of life,

Who move also in a dance,

To a music so subtle and vast that no ear hears it

Except in fragments.

Wendell Berry