The Animal in Me

By Corrie Sorrells

 

         I think that most people have a favorite animal; not just a cat or dog, but an exotic or wild animal. I believe we have favorite animals because we see something in them that reminds us of ourselves. Myself, I favor the butterfly, raven, and the tiger. 

         When I behold the beauty of a butterfly, I think of the metamorphosis, the change a butterfly goes through, to become that graceful creature. I, too, went through a metamorphosis. Being a small child is like being a larva. You are dependent on your surroundings to keep you alive. As a caterpillar in my teens, I learned to use my surroundings to my benefit. As an adult, I can only hope to be as free and independent as a graceful new butterfly.

         Consider the raven; mostly seen as a noisy, unattractive, pest of a bird. Is seen by me as a cunning, intelligent creature that has the ability to observe something like traffic, learn that he can drop a nut in the street at a cross walk, and use the car as a tool to crush the nut. The raven then uses the crosswalk light as another tool to retrieve the broken nut without getting hurt. For most animals, that would be a complex problem. I, too, am like the raven, for I had a complex problem: a lack of knowledge. So I went back to school;  there, I am learning the tools I will need to secure my future as a well-adjusted adult.

                  The tiger. Another one of nature's cunning creatures is more reserved than a raven, stronger than a butterfly but equally intelligent and just as graceful. A wild tiger spends most of its life alone with no one to aid him. If he cannot kill, he does not eat. To be alone takes the strength of a tiger. This is why I admire them: at 12, I was out in the world alone with no family or friends to aid me. Like the tiger, I had to call on strength from deep inside to tell myself that I don't need them to survive.

         Growing up I had to learn from what I observed to get the tools I need to grow (Raven). As I grew I changed into my own person, not someone who let my environment take me over. Once I learned to make my surroundings and not to let them make me, I changed yet again (Butterfly). I became a mother, calling again on my inner strength (Tiger).

         Only this time I do not need the strength to be alone. I need it to be a parent: to help my daughter with the changes she will go through, to show her how to use life's tools, and to be strong for her when she is not. My only hope for her is that she, too, will be as graceful as a butterfly, smart as a raven, and as strong as a tiger.