The Sloth Hanging in the Tree

Yesterday, my neighbor spotted a sloth in her tree.

Bicycling down the dusty dirt road through the intense Nicaraguan heat, I met her in her front yard.  Standing under the shallow forest of tall, leafy trees, we gazed up into the sunshiney canopy and were in awe.

High, high above us hugging a thick branch, its shaggy hair drooping moss-like, a sleepy sloth pouched himself amongst the cluster of leafy branches and snoozed.

I have never seen a sloth in Nicaragua.  Hints and rumors of them surface from time to time, but most of my sightings of this dozy elusive creature have been in Costa Rica. There, they lope their strangely long arms through the trees, their fuzzy, cheerful faces smiling down on humans as we point up and zoom in, attempting to catch even the slightest movement with our phones.  Sloths are a fairly common sight in Costa Rica, but here, they are rarely seen.

Someone once told me that when we see animals in the wild, it means we are on the same frequency as they are.  Which makes sense, I suppose.  We can only hear certain music if we are tuned to the same channel from which the tunes are playing.  Why wouldn’t the case be the same for animals? Think of all the channels, all the frequencies, we are tuned into at any one time. Since we can’t listen to all the channels all at once, there must be so much out there we miss.

How often do we walk under trees and see very few birds or squirrels, or look out over the ocean and miss the stingrays and fish? Even if they fly or swim close by, if we don’t notice them, we are not on their frequency.

When I’m pleasantly surprised by a rare animal sighting, such as hawks swooping my porch, whales breaching in the ocean, and foxes on the beach, I think, “I’m on their frequency.” And then I want to know, “What is the meaning of it?” If the sight isn’t common, then there must be some meaning rippling throughout that I’m meant to grasp.

I believe in the magic of these unexpected glimpses into the wild; that there is some special, deeper takeaway to be open to.

Sure, perhaps there is no treasured insight to find in such uncommon experiences and – like the spider on my porch last Christmas – maybe the sloth hanging in the tree is just a sloth. But doesn’t it fuel us with joy to seek deeper meaning in some things? Isn’t it more interesting?

I believe so. And as with all humanity’s belief systems, we can choose to believe what we want to believe. Choosing what we believe creates our reality.  If we choose to believe in God, then that’s our reality.  If we choose to believe we are no good at cooking, then that’s our reality.  What we choose to believe becomes real.

Someone once told me (a different “someone” than I mentioned above) that when we see a bright confetti of butterflies circling near, it means that good things are on the way. Isn’t that an enchanting belief?

In early May when the rains come down in Nicaragua, a color burst of butterflies flutter from the mud and petal out into the shiny new green everything. They swoosh their wings so wildly, a chaotic swirl of soft yellows and whites rising.  They are a welcome and beautiful sight, signaling the end of the dry season and the beginning of the wet.

The idea that yellow butterflies herald good tidings is likely not a law of physics, but it is lovely, so I choose to believe it anyway. And even if there is no scientific algorithm to prove the butterfly belief is accurate, doesn’t holding that belief feel good for a few moments?  The friendly promise of good things to come?

Because I choose to believe in the butterflies, something lifts in me when I see those dainty insects fluttering sunshine yellow. I feel lighter in that optimistic moment. And isn’t that magic itself? To feel more joyful in a moment because of butterfly sightings? Why not.

Our choices and beliefs create our reality. Think about it. Is there anything truly happening to you right now that you don’t believe in?  Nope.  Truth and belief go hand in hand, and if we wanted to, right now we could rabbit-hole that philosophical idea all the way to China.

But, it’s Friday.   Let’s get back to the sloth hanging in the tree.

From what I’ve read, the sloth symbolizes groundedness, patience, relaxation, and conservation.  He wastes not an ounce of energy. He sleeps all day, and is never, ever in a hurry.

The “groundedness” attribute throws me off a little since sloths are creatures of the trees. However, they are not like their neighbor monkeys, chittering and dangling, swinging and climbing to and fro, howling at each other all day long.

No. The sloth is chill.

The sloth demonstrates the option of being content living in our own truth, in our own belief.  He is a creature that reminds us that we can approach difficult situations with grace and patience. He shows us we can move at our own pace and still reach our destination. He nestles into his present moment, relaxed.

The sloth’s reminder to me was timely, as this week has been particularly hectic. A week stacked with days, mapped out to the hour. A week where three different events changed times, two events were canceled, and then surprise events surfaced in the mix.  Trying to get all I needed done felt pressured at peak moments.

Did stress, irritation, and panic play a part in this past week? It started to.

But then, mid-week, uncalendered and unexpected there hung the sloth.

Slumbersome, but not yawning. Hairy, but not unkempt. Aware, but not bothered by a polite frenzy of pointing hands and friendly shouts from the ground below.

The sloth hanging in the tree was a sweet and gentle reminder to be present.  To enjoy the moment in the trees under the sky.

And to just chill.

~ Christy

If you enjoy my stories, feel free to buy me a coffee.

For professional partnerships, please explore my Writing Portfolio & Services, 1:1 Life Purpose Coaching, Retreat Consultation, or check out my Travel With a Purpose Retreats in Nicaragua.