Mindful Monday: True Confidence + A Deer Encounter
Last week, I attended a retreat that touched me deeply. One of the segments focused on the theme of true confidence, and it stirred something profound in my soul.
We explored the difference between ego-based confidence and what my teacher called essential confidence. True confidence is our birthright. It's the quiet knowing of our spiritual nature—unshakable, not dependent on external approval or circumstances. In contrast, egoic confidence leans on outside validation—on people, achievements, or status to feel secure.
True confidence arises when we are grounded in our being. When our inner roots are deep in the earth and our awareness is anchored in our true nature, we experience our existence as essence. We live in the world, but we are not of the world. We inhabit a physical body, yet our essence is far greater than the body alone.
As my teacher spoke, I realized how this deeper, soul-level confidence has been quietly growing in me over the years. It's not loud. It’s simply present—essence, whole, grounded, steadfast. And it felt good to acknowledge and share these shifts with my peers.
After the retreat ended, I felt inspired to go for a walk in the woods. It was a beautiful evening. The air was fresh, the energy quiet.
As I made my way along the path, I was delighted to see a deer appear through the trees. I stopped, and then another deer emerged. It was my first deer sighting of the year.
As soon as I saw them, I noticed a shift in my body—my shoulders softened, my breath deepened, and my heart opened. Deer have always felt precious to me.
One deer slowly walked across the path and disappeared. But the other— a male—stayed. He continued eating, pausing now and then to lift his head and look directly at me. Then he would return to grazing and look up again. We were quite close. I didn’t move. I simply stood in awe, silently communicating with him.
In that moment, I felt I was being shown the embodiment of true confidence. The deer was fully present, calm, and grounded. He didn’t need to flee, but he also wasn’t performing. He was just being—quiet and steady.
At one point, I sensed it was time to give the deer its space. I was a visitor in his home. So I turned around and walked back to where I had come from.
As I walked back, I saw my sister at the bottom of the hill—another lovely surprise. When I met up with her, I told her about the deer. We looked around, but they were nowhere to be seen.
Then, as we continued walking, the female deer suddenly leapt across the path in front of us, the male following close behind. And as quickly as they came, they were gone. They moved with such grace, and you could feel the power. What a gift.
And in that sacred moment, I whispered a quiet thank you.
With love,
Diane