Dharma Lessons of a Toad — Writing My World

“I think you should get the broom and shoo it out of here.”

“No I don’t want to do that. What if it hops towards me? I’m gonna let it be.”

“Suit yourself but I think it would be best to nudge it off the patio with something.”

“Well maybe I will just raise a ruckus moving the ladder around as I clean the windows…hopefully he’ll get the message and skedaddle.”

So went the internal dialogue between my scaredy-cat self and my pragmatic self. The day was not going as planned, and the discovery of a sizable toad nestled by the patio door was not making it go any smoother.

Our morning began with an early start, as we planned to hike the Shakerag Trail in nearby Sewanee. We were just about ready to head out when I heard the rumble of a dump truck. The crew John hired to re-gravel our driveway decided today was the day. We have learned to be patient with the good folks who live on the plateau. “We’ll be there in a week or so” can mean who knows when. So we weren’t surprised to see the dump truck filled with the first load of gravel a month or so after they agreed to do the job. John was pleased they were here at last, but I felt a tinge of disappointment knowing that we’d miss the hike.

Rather than mope, I decided to tackle one last spring chore…hosing off the screens and washing the windows. So after changing clothes, we hooked up the hose, and John brought the ladder down from the attic so I could begin. As I stood on the patio assessing where to start, I noticed a toad nestled in the corner right by our back door. He was about the size of my palm and cleverly hidden on the dark patio. When one resides in a forest, you learn to make peace with the presence of wildlife….snakes, mice, moths, and all manner of insects. Yet if they come into my house I am not quite as hospitable. So my chief concern was that it not come into the house. Thus, I resolved to make a commotion by clanging the ladder and slamming the patio door each time I went in or out. Yet, Mr. Toad barely moved from his corner. When I scrubbed the mold off the lower part of the door and hosed it off. I thought surely he’d move along, but he only huddled closer to the corner away from the spray.

As the day wore on and I moved on to the upstairs windows. I began to wonder if Mr. Toad might be hurt or ailing. I took a moment to examine him and marveled at his mottled rough skin. His collage of yellows and browns perfectly imitated the forest floor. It was in this quiet moment that I realized how cunningly this creature adapted to the forest. Unwittingly, I let go of my fear and found admiration for his tenacity. I not only accepted but appreciated his presence knowing how he contributed to the grand balance of the ecosystem I lived in. We made a peaceful truce, and I stopped trying to dislodge him with my loud comings and goings.

That evening we FaceTimed our three youngest grandchildren who were spending the week at the beach. FaceTime often encourages a sort of show & tell so I introduced them to “Mr. Toad” after they gave me a tour of their beach house. The youngest who is enamored with all things creepy crawly was impressed but disagreed with his name. He prefers to name creatures by what they do. So by his pronouncement Mr. Toad became simply “Hopper.”

The next morning though, Hopper was gone. I am not sure what drew him back into the forest Perhaps it was the safety of the darkness or maybe he was just living up to his new name. I silently wished him well and hoped he escaped the black snake we’d recently seen by the house.

Later, I thought about how the toad’s unexpected appearance startled me at first. Yet as the day went on I began to admire his steady, unflinching presence. It reminded me how little control I have over what comes my way…even a stubborn toad. All I can control is how I react. I can whirl into a tizzy when my plans are thwarted or overturned, or I can choose to observe and make sense of what is. When I bent down to examine our visitor, I found a quiet moment of appreciation and marveled at its presence. The Buddhist teacher and author, Pema Chodren, would call that Dharma or “letting go of the storyline and opening up to what is.” It was a good day to observe what is without inflicting my own hopes and fears. Toads and all manner of things will continue to hop into my life, but they also will hop away into the dark recesses of days gone by. So I’d best learn to pay attention and be open to the surprise and wonder that just might come my way.