Under Your Nose

a story about two bear cubs and a curious and open-minded friend

Photo Source (still from video): Jen Shepherd

A few hours ago, I was walking my goldendoodle Leo, when my phone pinged with a text from a friend. I looked down to see a video of a black bear in a tree. Underneath, a message popped up: “OMG what do I do!” and then a few moments later, “I am walking quickly and quietly away.” There was a bear emoji after that second message which gave me some reassurance that my friend was not being chased by the bear and would return home safely. Would she take the time to find and include the bear emoji if she were running for her life?

Jen is my lucky friend who saw the bear. She is at my home in Vermont this weekend for a writer’s retreat. A group of us who have met mostly on Zoom in online writing workshops the last few years have gathered in person for a few days of intensive writing and camaraderie (and wine). While we were all off doing our own thing during some personal time this morning, Jen walked 4-1/2 miles and saw not one, but two bear cubs in the woods. She is having what I am now calling a “two cub day.”

This is Jen’s first visit to Woodstock, and I love that she saw two bear cubs on her first morning walk (and that she was not chased or eaten by those chubby cubs). She is a talented and published writer, and she is also a nature photographer whose Instagram feed is filled with fabulous wildlife photos from her daily morning walks in Rhode Island. Her cub sighting seems a wonderful portend for the weekend ahead.

But I also had an uncomfortable feeling in my gut when I saw that video. I have had a home here in Woodstock for six years and I hate that I have seen a black bear only once, from a long distance away, which doesn’t really count. This uncomfortable feeling isn’t jealousy about Jen’s sighting but rather a realization about me and what I have (or have not) been doing for the past few months. I can’t have a “two cub day,” or even a “one cub day” (after all, why be greedy?) if I am not out there looking. The cubs won’t be ringing my doorbell to let me know they are ready to be admired. Ready for their photo op. It’s a realization that currently, I am not exactly practicing what I write (I am using the word “exactly” to feel better about this, but you can drop it on your end if you are feeling particularly snarky or scathing today).

Many of my Sunday essays are about seeing the world: I write about exploring new places, seeing new things, and being open to new experiences. I write about how our explorations change us and give us opportunities to reflect. Just last week, I wrote about my desire to get outside my comfort zone.

I don’t believe we have to jump in the car or hop on plane to do any of this. We don’t have to travel to exotic places to have experiences that transform us. I believe “seeing the world” is dependent on a particular frame of mind—one that is curious and open to new experiences. It’s about talking to the security guard at the museum about her opinion of the art on the walls, walking a different route to the store and noticing new things about the neighborhood, and noticing the tiny flowers growing in the crack in the sidewalk. It’s about getting up before dawn and setting out on a 4-1/2 mile walk when you’re at a friend’s house just to see what’s out there. It’s curiosity in the little moments that make up our days.

I have not been living what I believe…at least not this past summer. When June came around, I had my sights on a goal. I wanted to complete the first full rough draft of my memoir by Labor Day. It was a very ambitious (and I will admit, slightly unrealistic) goal and I didn’t get the draft done but I made huge strides forward. I am proud of myself, and it feels good. What doesn’t feel good is that I dropped some of my other, smaller goals in the process. Those goals were all about being an explorer on my home turf: paddle boarding at Silver Lake in Vermont, exploring unknown neighborhoods in Boston, going out more with friends, taking some photography classes, and doing more gardening.

I did a little here and there but not as much as I could have. And those little goals are important because the memoir has the potential to be an all-consuming project, just like so many other things that we take on in life – the house renovation, the new job, a big client project with an unrealistic deadline, a summer garden with its attendant hungry rabbits and slugs. I don’t want the explorer part to get smothered by the work part, by the memoir big goal part. I don’t want to miss what’s under my nose. Everyday.

Not everyone wants to travel and certainly not everyone can. But I discovered a long time ago that having a curious explorer mindset at home is more important than saving it for a big trip. The things we find under our nose, in our backyard, keep things exciting. These are the things that help us find wonder everyday, question accepted truths, and reflect on our lives.

It really came to me after college. Out of town friends would visit and want to do all the tourist things – visit the Statue of Liberty, rent bikes for a ride through Central Park, walk over the Brooklyn Bridge. These were things I never bothered doing while I lived there. It’s not going anywhere. I’ll get to it someday. That’s for the tourists.

I was always surprised at how exhilarating those activities turned out to be, and how they opened new perspectives on my hometown city. When I had my first job after college, the memory of a stroll over the Brooklyn Bridge with visiting friends led me to walk over that span every day for my commute from Fort Greene to Greenwich Village. It really was a great way to get to work, offering great views that filled me with delight and pride in my city. And I got to do that every day of the week! To think it was under my nose for years and I didn’t see the possibilities of it until friends with an explorer mindset came to town.

I have a spectacular road trip to look forward to, but I don’t want to miss out meanwhile. I don’t want to have my head in my laptop all the time, writing my memoir, or even planning my trip. Jen’s “two cub day” is a timely reminder that the bear cubs are all around me. But I can’t have a “two cub day” if I don’t look for them. If I don’t get out of the house and be curious. Even on my home turf. Especially on my home turf.

So tomorrow morning I am going to wake up and ask myself, “What do I want to do today that may yield a “two cub day?” At the very least it will make me smile and cause me to think more carefully about how I spend my time.

And my wish for you is that you also have a “two cub day.” Go out searching. Take a different route. Slow down and look around with fresh eyes. Today. Tomorrow. And the next.