Have you ever wondered what it’s like to live the life of another species…a dolphin… a butterfly…a tree? Today, my imagination goes underground into the daily life of the gopher.
I am just amazed at the persistence of gophers. No matter how many times her tunnels are destroyed, the little gopher just keeps on digging. I imagine that she does so cheerfully. Well, maybe not cheerfully, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t start digging a new tunnel full of resentment about the destruction of the former one. I’m fairly certain that when she sees a collapsed tunnel, she doesn’t become angry, frustrated and waste time complaining to herself and others. She’s simply present, digging, one claw-full at a time.

It’s also clear that the gopher digs in the softest dirt she can find – like my lawn and flowerbeds. The nerve! I’ll bet she doesn’t even label herself as “lazy”! Oh, that’s right – gophers don’t have egos. Without an ego, she isn’t motivated to seek out “hard dirt” to prove to her friends and family that she really is “more” or “better”. She is satisfied taking the path of least resistance.
I want to learn from my gopher guru. I want to stay present and keep moving forward without upset after any one of my projects collapses. I want to dig in the soft dirt, take the path of least resistance more often. Today, digging in the soft dirt means writing about gophers because it’s where my thoughts are naturally and easily flowing. Yet I am aware of the voice of my ego, its familiar scare tactic, saying that if I don’t dig furiously in the hard dirt, if I don’t “challenge myself”, “struggle”, and “force myself” to write about something more profound than gophers, I certainly deserve to be labeled “lazy”.
The nerve! Yes, I want to have the nerve to write freely in the soft places of the literary garden, without unnecessary struggle, and without concern about collapses, labels, approval or reward. Simply present, writing along, playfully, one word at a time.