When it happened, I was wearing blue shorts, yellow shoes, and an orange bra. The colorful hue of my outfit was no match for the darkness I would soon inject into someone's life.
We wanted to go to Blockbuster to rent a movie, Albertson's to get some snacks, and finally Yogurtland for a late-night dessert. Yogurtland turned into Thai Iced Tea from Cha and an exchange of high school stories and giggles with Katie.
We were driving home, the music was loud, and a tiny bunny pounced across the dimly lit road. I swerved and my heart stopped.
It's happened before. I always go back to ensure that no damage was done. "We have to go back," I screamed. We turned around and retraced our tire marks. And within a few seconds, I saw it, lying dead in the middle of the road. Immediately, I couldn't feel my senses. All I could feel was the instant grief and pain of taking someone's life. A flood of tears. A downpour of regret.
Maybe if I did something differently it would be OK. Maybe if we'd gotten Yogurtland as we'd originally planned. Maybe if I didn't stop for that yellow light in the beginning. Maybe if the music was quieter or a different song was playing. All I can do is wonder that if I'd done something slightly different, that bunny would still be alive. I have never been met with this much pain toward something that has always been my guiding light -- nature.
When I saw the bunny, we parked on the side of the road while I cried for a few minutes and Katie sat and listened, comfortingly. I knew I had to apologize or the wound wouldn't mend. I toiled with the idea, wondering if the image of the dead rabbit would scar me forever. Then I scoffed at myself for even considering relieving my own suffering when something just died because of me. I left the car and walked into the street to meet the stranger. Apologized and cried over its small, lifeless body. Touched its foot and said my goodbyes. Walked back to the car and drove home in silence.
I watched a video yesterday about how we perceive reality. It said that humans perceive reality within our minds. We make things real because we perceive them to be so. But all that is real is the force that guides everything around us. And the only way to be part of that force is to separate ourselves from our egos -- the will to want something from everything. Even if the "something" is small, like hoping to be portrayed as a nice person for saying "thank you" and "please." I understand that and I can feel that notion. But when I hit that bunny, I felt detached from everything. I'm not sure if it was good or bad, but I knew that my sadness and tears weren't forced or because I hoped for something in return. They were reflexes of my spirit, pouring over the idea of taking the life of something that didn't deserve to die.
My eyes still sting, and the bunny died about 15 minutes ago. I hope it's happy wherever it is. I hope it has met the pervading force of the universe. Diffusing through everything. Living on in the spirit and unity of the world.
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