In the rocky river valley in which I live, December is the month of stillpoints. The calendar says winter won’t come until the 21st, but the slightest shift in temperature could bring it sooner or delay it for another day. When thick clouds shroud the valley, the old-timers sniff the air. “It smells like…” The stillpoint hits us all, then disappears when they conclude, “like snow.” On clear nights the sheer number and brightness of the stars pressing down from above empties the mind, another stillpoint. Each one of these possesses the potential to change us and our behavior, literally in a heartbeat. Given their significance, it’s no surprise that we share this phenomenon with other animals.
Of all the different kinds of stillpoints that living beings experience, I want to consider three common ones that may enhance the quality of human and nonhuman animal life. The first two are those split-second intervals between when an animal takes in and processes any incoming stimuli and makes a response, and we respond to the animal’s behavior. When speaking of human behavior, many have traditionally referred to this as the moment of choice. However, what about animals: when they experience such a stillpoint does it also comprise a moment of choice?
Those who don’t believe animals capable of conscious thought obviously don’t accept that animals are capable of conscious choices. Consequently, no such animal stillpoint can exist. However, even studies of animal behavior conducted with the nonthinking assumption have revealed a pause that precedes any response to potentially threatening circumstances. Originally, this stillpoint was dismissed as the freeze-fear response because animals displaying it remain still. However, whereas the true freeze-response persists, the stillpoint gives way to another display. Consequently, in terms of the common responses made by frightened animals, they don’t freeze or fight, flee, or display the tend/befriend response. Rather they all freeze for an instant. Then some remain in that state while others go on to display one of the other responses.
Anyone who has observed young pups or kittens may have noticed how youngsters unsure of the proper response in those particular circumstances often will orient toward adult animals or owners for a split-second, seeking guidance. If we miss this or respond in a manner than increases rather than decreases these animals’ stress, they may orient away from rather than toward us during the stillpoint.
Regardless what actually goes on in the animal mind during that interval, the fact remains that it does exist. Not only that, a similar stillpoint also exists for us as well as our pets at that time. If that weren’t intriguing enough, from what clients have told me over the years, it’s apparent that, rather than being a brief interval of nothingness, the stillpoint comprises an instant in which we human animals know all. Thus the problem isn’t that we have no options, but rather that we have so many we risk being paralyzed by indecision.
Yeah, yeah. I know what you’re thinking: “She’s really gone off the deep end this time!” Thirty years ago I would have agreed with you. However consider the following, which is by no means an unusual event. A friend I’ll call Jodi has a dog, Denzel, with multiple health problems that increase his sense of vulnerability and sometimes lead to outbursts of lunging and snarling that are all show and no go. Like many such animals, he does this to avoid confrontation rather than invite it.
Jodi is one of those people who wants to understand why animals do what they do and, rather than resenting it like some folks, she’s also fascinated by the role her relationship with her dog plays in his behavior. Several weeks ago she reported that in the split second before Denzel reacted to a workman entering her home, she knew she could either calmly make no response or tell the dog to behave. However, she didn’t feel really confident about calmly ignoring him, even though this constituted the best response at that time. (What would the workman think of her if she ignored the display?) During the brief interval in which she processed all this, Denzel remained quiet. When she opted to give him a voice command to be quiet, he began his usual aggressive display.
As she later described it, “He responded to my indecisive body language rather than the words that came out of my mouth.” And, in fact, she knew from other experiences with this very perceptive and intelligent dog that, given a conflict between what she was thinking and what she said, he’s behavior was far more likely to reflect her thoughts than words.
Now if you’re the owner of a problem animal, that all this might occur in an instant you don’t even recognize as real could be very depressing were it not for the fact that we can train ourselves to notice and use this interval. And just as we stop to get the lay of the land and chart a safe and efficient course before crossing a busy street, we can stop and do likewise so we can respond to out pets in a meaningful way.
In addition to those stillpoints that provide animals and us with the opportunity to know all and, hopefully, make the right choice regarding the best way to respond to changes at a particular time, there’s a third stillpoint that transcends description. It seems particularly appropriate to recognize it in this season of silent nights in a troubled world where holy ones are increasingly hard to come by. It’s the instant of one-ness that occurs when we somehow melt into a beloved pet sitting or lying beside us. It’s the instant in which the beauty, call, or song of a wild animal freezes us in our tracks. It is the instant when the New Hampshire Guardsman/bird-watcher in Iraq sees a new bird and all the pain and horror around him instantly disappears. It is an instant of peace and joy that surpasses all human understanding.
In a month often filled with way too much to do and way too little time to do it, remember the stillpoints. They’re always there, ready to share their magic and their blessings.
In the rocky river valley in which I live, December is the month of stillpoints. The calendar says winter won’t come until the 21st, but the slightest shift in temperature could bring it sooner or delay it for another day. When thick clouds shroud the valley, the old-timers sniff the air. “It smells like…” The stillpoint hits us all, then disappears when they conclude, “like snow.” On clear nights the sheer number and brightness of the stars pressing down from above empties the mind, another stillpoint. Each one of these possesses the potential to change us and our behavior, literally in a heartbeat. Given their significance, it’s no surprise that we share this phenomenon with other animals.
Of all the different kinds of stillpoints that living beings experience, I want to consider three common ones that may enhance the quality of human and nonhuman animal life. The first two are those split-second intervals between when an animal takes in and processes any incoming stimuli and makes a response, and we respond to the animal’s behavior. When speaking of human behavior, many have traditionally referred to this as the moment of choice. However, what about animals: when they experience such a stillpoint does it also comprise a moment of choice?
Those who don’t believe animals capable of conscious thought obviously don’t accept that animals are capable of conscious choices. Consequently, no such animal stillpoint can exist. However, even studies of animal behavior conducted with the nonthinking assumption have revealed a pause that precedes any response to potentially threatening circumstances. Originally, this stillpoint was dismissed as the freeze-fear response because animals displaying it remain still. However, whereas the true freeze-response persists, the stillpoint gives way to another display. Consequently, in terms of the common responses made by frightened animals, they don’t freeze or fight, flee, or display the tend/befriend response. Rather they all freeze for an instant. Then some remain in that state while others go on to display one of the other responses.
Anyone who has observed young pups or kittens may have noticed how youngsters unsure of the proper response in those particular circumstances often will orient toward adult animals or owners for a split-second, seeking guidance. If we miss this or respond in a manner than increases rather than decreases these animals’ stress, they may orient away from rather than toward us during the stillpoint.
Regardless what actually goes on in the animal mind during that interval, the fact remains that it does exist. Not only that, a similar stillpoint also exists for us as well as our pets at that time. If that weren’t intriguing enough, from what clients have told me over the years, it’s apparent that, rather than being a brief interval of nothingness, the stillpoint comprises an instant in which we human animals know all. Thus the problem isn’t that we have no options, but rather that we have so many we risk being paralyzed by indecision.
Yeah, yeah. I know what you’re thinking: “She’s really gone off the deep end this time!” Thirty years ago I would have agreed with you. However consider the following, which is by no means an unusual event. A friend I’ll call Jodi has a dog, Denzel, with multiple health problems that increase his sense of vulnerability and sometimes lead to outbursts of lunging and snarling that are all show and no go. Like many such animals, he does this to avoid confrontation rather than invite it.
Jodi is one of those people who wants to understand why animals do what they do and, rather than resenting it like some folks, she’s also fascinated by the role her relationship with her dog plays in his behavior. Several weeks ago she reported that in the split second before Denzel reacted to a workman entering her home, she knew she could either calmly make no response or tell the dog to behave. However, she didn’t feel really confident about calmly ignoring him, even though this constituted the best response at that time. (What would the workman think of her if she ignored the display?) During the brief interval in which she processed all this, Denzel remained quiet. When she opted to give him a voice command to be quiet, he began his usual aggressive display.
As she later described it, “He responded to my indecisive body language rather than the words that came out of my mouth.” And, in fact, she knew from other experiences with this very perceptive and intelligent dog that, given a conflict between what she was thinking and what she said, he’s behavior was far more likely to reflect her thoughts than words.
Now if you’re the owner of a problem animal, that all this might occur in an instant you don’t even recognize as real could be very depressing were it not for the fact that we can train ourselves to notice and use this interval. And just as we stop to get the lay of the land and chart a safe and efficient course before crossing a busy street, we can stop and do likewise so we can respond to out pets in a meaningful way.
In addition to those stillpoints that provide animals and us with the opportunity to know all and, hopefully, make the right choice regarding the best way to respond to changes at a particular time, there’s a third stillpoint that transcends description. It seems particularly appropriate to recognize it in this season of silent nights in a troubled world where holy ones are increasingly hard to come by. It’s the instant of one-ness that occurs when we somehow melt into a beloved pet sitting or lying beside us. It’s the instant in which the beauty, call, or song of a wild animal freezes us in our tracks. It is the instant when the New Hampshire Guardsman/bird-watcher in Iraq sees a new bird and all the pain and horror around him instantly disappears. It is an instant of peace and joy that surpasses all human understanding.
In a month often filled with way too much to do and way too little time to do it, remember the stillpoints. They’re always there, ready to share their magic and their blessings.