Out here in the country, especially in winter, many mice live like this mouse lives. Some of them hope that the sounds they make provide comfort to those who hear them. The peaceful stirring of gentle life.
Other mice prefer their sounds to go more or less undetected. It depends on the home.
Not everyone wants to have mice, but there are creatures among all forms of life that always welcome another heartbeat, just as there are mice who know when the beat of their heart is to be welcomed.
Every living being may understand itself to be like a mouse in a wide world. The world of everyone and everything. And also their world within the wider one.
A mouse at its best doesn’t think of itself as only tiny. They’re more likely to believe that they’re darting. Quick. Hard to pin down. Good things.
Not large either. The knowing mouse isn’t a silly mouse. Not medium. And what’s medium anyway?
There’s no size. Not that way.
There’s being a part of a part of larger whole, and your own something. Knowing how you fit in and how you stand apart.
Each heartbeat is different because of to whom they belong, but there’s still more than just a thudding in common from mice to people, and people to mice, when you get down to it.
So it goes with all forms of life that welcome and wish to be welcomed, whatever that means to them in their world, and each of us in all of ours.
* from "What the Mouse Knew"/The Solution to the World's Problems: Surprising Tales of Relentless Joy