The Deer That Was Never There

Finding the Creator's Teachings in an Ordinary Morning

Every morning since arriving in Bella Coola, I have opened the curtains to the same view. There is an old tree just beyond the window. I have looked at it countless times, yet every single morning my eyes tell me the same story.

"There's a deer lying beneath that tree."
Then, after a second look, I remember it isn't a deer at all.

It is an old tree with a weathered burl, patches of moss, branches reaching in every direction, and shadows playing tricks with the morning light. Nothing has changed about the tree. The only thing that changes is the way my mind first receives it.

That simple moment became a teaching.

How often do we move through life believing we are seeing reality, when in truth we are seeing only our first impression? We judge situations before we understand them. We judge people before we know their story. We judge ourselves before we recognize the healing Kitchi Manitou has already begun within us.

The old tree has quietly reminded me that there is wisdom in looking twice. Yet there is another teaching hidden within it.

Although the deer isn't really there, what my heart sees first is not danger or fear it sees a peaceful creature resting safely beneath the shelter of an old tree. Perhaps that says something about the work the Creator has been doing within me.

Our first thoughts often reveal the condition of our hearts.

If our hearts are filled with fear, we tend to see threats where there are none. If our hearts are filled with bitterness, we expect disappointment. But when our hearts begin to heal, we start seeing peace, beauty, and life even in ordinary places.

The tree has never spoken a single word, yet every morning it has offered me a lesson.
Kitchi Manitou often teaches this way.
Not through thunder.
Not through spectacle.
But through quiet repetition.
The same tree.
The same window.
The same morning light.

Until one day we realize that the lesson was never about the tree at all. It was about the eyes that were learning to see.

Perhaps that is why the Creator invites us to become like children again—not because children know more, but because they have not forgotten how to wonder.

Every morning, I smile at the deer that isn't there. And every morning, I thank Kitchi Manitou for reminding me that sometimes the greatest teachings are hidden inside the most ordinary moments.

"The Creator is always speaking. The question is not whether He is speaking, but whether we have become quiet enough to notice."

— Waubshki Migisi
from the heart of Loon + Sturgeon 🪶