Lessons About Boundaries From My Backyard

Featuring two rascally animals, an unruly Oregon Grape plant and a surprisingly obedient Morning Glory.

My mind had been churning lately about a boundary I needed to set with an acquaintance.

Through different trainings, healing work and, of course, life experience, I’ve come to understand that setting a boundary isn’t really about asking someone else to “follow your rules—or else.”

We can tell someone what we need or what we’re no longer willing to participate in, but ultimately, holding the boundary is our job.

It’s something we honor for ourselves—not only in what we say, but in what we do when the behavior continues.

This was very much on my mind recently as I was contemplating a new boundary I needed to set.

And then, two animal visitors showed up in my backyard on two consecutive days.

The first was a raccoon.

His cute little face appeared over the fence, and I was like, “Oh, how cute!”

The next day, I realized he had eaten almost every walnut on my walnut tree and left broken shells all over the patio, along with a few muddy paw prints.

Still cute. Also kind of a menace.

Then, the following evening, I was getting ready to go outside and do some shamanic energy-clearing work with tobacco when I looked out the door and saw a skunk right outside my patio.

I quickly turned around and went back inside.

Message received. 😂

Two slightly scary spirit guides in two days—both appearing while I was thinking about boundaries. Of course I had to wonder whether there was something in that for me.

The raccoon made me think about discernment. Something—or someone—can be charming and still create a mess in your space. We can see the goodness in another person without giving them unlimited access to us.

But it was the skunk that really got me thinking.

A skunk doesn’t have to explain its boundary. It doesn’t have to convince you that the boundary is reasonable or get you to agree with it.

You just know not to cross it.

There is something about an embodied boundary that feels a little like that. Once we really own it, our energy changes. Our body language changes. There’s a confidence that becomes visible—almost like a subtle “don’t f#%* with me” shield of protection.

Not because we’ve become hard or closed off. We’ve simply stopped waiting for someone else to protect the boundary for us.

Maybe that was the message. Or at least part of it. And then I started observing the plants in my yard…

Story continued on Substack: https://spacebetweenwings.substack.com/p/lessons-about-boundaries-from-my