Mama Coyote was born in the dead of winter in Joshua Tree National Park.
The story is a long one and to be honest, not one I fully remember, as camping necessitates inebriation, particularly on a cold desert night when your insides beg for warmth. I was wearing faux fur and my partner, who has since evolved to be my husband, spun a long, meandering story which culminated in the discovery of Mama Coyote beside a roaring campfire, ominously awaiting the arrival of weary desert wanderers. The story was so delightful, so completely off-the-cuff and perfectly told by my poetic wordsmith then-boyfriend, that our laughter echoed off the rocks, boomeranging into the silence of the vast and nearly vacant national park for what seemed like hours.
I want to mention that Mama Coyote, though I identify with her as the mysterious entity that she is, is not what I would consider my Spirit Animal. I think it is partially human nature to identify with certain creatures, but I am of the opinion that calling something one's Spirit Animal, particularly if one is not actually Native American, is a misstep.
The phrase "Mama Coyote" rattled around in my brain for a while, reminding me of the epic tale and the joy we shared because of it, bringing me laughter on dark days. Mama Coyote remained gestating in the ether before being birthed into the world as a way to share my creations with as many people as will let me.
Thanks to Patrick, my delightful and ever-supportive husband, for putting a name to my creative endeavors and helping to empower myself and Mama Coyote, day in and day out.