Just Now

This month's newsletter comes to you directly from South Africa. I thought this might be the first time in nine years that I missed my, self-imposed, beginning of the month deadline, but I feel inspired to share one small aspect of this adventure with you immediately.

Nearly every resident I've met in South Africa speaks at least two languages, including Afrikaans and English. The folks who run the Dell Cheetah Center, where I've spent the past two weeks, speak both with ease and eloquence. Every once in a while, though, there will be a small difference translating.

One of the Center's trustees is a young man, Hardus, who runs the day-to-day operations. I've watched him cuddle with beings from ground squirrels to cheetahs, stand down a frighteningly aggressive cheetah (I'm pretty sure this is why the phrase balls of steel was invented) - exerting dominance by making the cheetah wait to eat his dinner, even when the food bowl was already on the ground (this dominance is imperative for the caretaker's on-going safety - and in no way harms the cat), and carry a 22 caliber rifle to shoot pigeons as a special treat for one of the servals. Life in this corner of the world is the wild west all over again! More about that another time, though.

Among his many talents, the Operations Manager prepares food with care and pride. He grew up in a restaurant environment, and appreciates: the process of creating, the excellent results, and the enjoyment of those he feeds. For the better part of these last two weeks, I offered my services as his mediocre sous chef.

As I settled into the role, I'd check in with Hardus as the dinner hour approached to see how I might be useful. He'd tell me," I'm going to start 'just now,' after I feed that squirrel." It took me a bit to understand that "just now" meant "soon" or "in a few moments." But in hearing the phrase again and again, I began to live into the importance of what "just now" means to me.

For ten days of the past two weeks I performed a kind of physical labor unlike anything I've ever experienced. It's not that it was so hard, more that the work was simply so different. The duties were many and varied, from moving rats to chopping chunks of horse meat, and daily cleaning of bunny enclosures. Some bunnies, just so freaking small and cute, I wanted to tuck in my pockets, as they swarmed at my feet. All the while, knowing that these beings would ultimately end up as cheetah food. What I had with them, each moment, was just now.

I spent a portion of many afternoons reading to Pablo, a caracal. I learned, within the first few days, that he liked to have someone read to him. So off I went with my Kindle to sit outside of his enclosure, keeping company, reading Sue Grafton and Nora Roberts to him, as he rested, explored, rolled, chatted, and offered me his bum through the wires for a little scratch. He was one of the hardest beings to say good-bye to, at the end of my volunteer stint.

Ironically, in all of my time at the Center, I never entered Pablo's enclosure. I heard the first day that his feisty attitude might result in a swat or two, if offered the opportunity. In turn, my experience with him was limited to story time, except when our small group went to visit Nala.

Generally speaking, Pablo hissed - a lot! Especially when he would witness volunteers visiting his neighbor, Nala. She is a 10 year old cheetah (this is very long in a cheetah life), who allows people to come into her space with grace and dignity. Nala will give kitty kisses, and ask for head rubs in return. There is no fence between Nala and her visitors. Once, she even rested her head in my lap. Can I just tell you how amazing that was?! It only happened one time - and I knew not to take it for granted, because it was a "just now" moment.

The variety of "just now" moments (Pablo, Nala, and the bunnies barely scratch the surface) - each remarkably intense, allowed me to appreciate my life differently, more fully, and with a reverence I'd not yet experienced. In recent years, I've come to live with an abundance of gratitude, and from that place, my life seems to be fuller and richer than ever before. This series of "just now" experiences allow me feel a new depth - like I said, a kind of reverence for this extraordinary life I've been gifted.

Here's the funny thing. The reverence extends itself to the mundane, as much as the unique and special. I appreciated the moments spent in the kitchen chopping those darned potatoes, nearly as much as Pablo talking to me instead of hissing at me (although, even being hissed at by a caracal is special). Somehow, I've been afforded this gift of being introduced to the miracle of each moment, because all I've got is "just now." I may just be the luckiest woman on earth - or, I may finally know, in my bones, something we are all able to know, if we surrender to the moment.

May you enjoy your personal "just now."

With love and deep gratitude,
Joanne Lutz

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