After protesting vehemently that I wasn’t ready for it, I recently made a snap decision to attend a workshop on aging. The leader invited us to bring a picture or stuffy of our spirit animal.
And how would I know what that would be? I turned to Google for wisdom.
One site suggested I should watch which wild animals seem attracted to me. I live in a large city. I see the occasional squirrel. They don’t pay the least bit of attention to me. That’s a relief. I don’t have much rapport with rodents.
I smell skunk once in a while. I’ve been told that smell is actually marijuana. Another relief.
Another site gave the native American spirit animal based on birth date. According to that, mine is the bear. “Bear people think deeply about life and observe it with equal care.” Interesting, but the idea of the bear created no buzz.
The quiz on another site identified my spirit animal to be the tiger. “By affinity with this spirit animal, you may enjoy dealing with life matters spontaneously, trusting your intuition and acting fast when needed.”
My breathing quickened. My last-minute decision to take the workshop on aging was a case in point. The barn cats used to like me when I was growing up on a farm. Cats are related to tigers, right?
“Do either of you have a stuffed tiger I could borrow?” I asked the next time I visited my grandchildren.
“Yes, we’ve got Tony, the Tiger,” they blurted almost in unison. Nathan clamoured to the holy of holies in his cupboard to retrieve him.
Avery wrinkled her nose.
“You don’t seem like a tiger, Grandma B.”
“What animal would you say I am like?”
We’ve joked before that their name for me, Grandma B, is fitting because I like to take ideas from one place to another.
“What do you think, Nathan?”
“A butterfly, maybe? You like to garden. I think about butterflies in gardens.”
I have been through a few transformations in my life. Maybe he’s onto something.
Move over, Google. My grandchildren are a great source of wisdom, too.