Posts Tagged ‘Birds’
Hopeful
Thursday, March 25th, 2021
I have been thinking about hope the past few weeks. Perhaps it is the new season of Spring and watching the flowers burst through the earth. Perhaps it is because I have been watching the birds return to the cherry trees out side my window. Perhaps it is the light that lasts longer each night. Perhaps it is knowing that family and friends are getting vaccinated and I too will soon get the vaccine. Perhaps it is because I feel like making plans of things to do or places to go for the first time in 12 months.
Or perhaps I have been meditating on hope because it is the season of renewal, miracles, and the Easter season of resurrection and new life. Perhaps it is just my faith reminding me that hope returns (or perhaps never left) that I am given constant reminders of hope in nature. All I know is that any time I have been asked how I am dong the past few weeks, the only word that comes out of my mouth is “hopeful.” I am hopeful of new beginnings and of miracles. I am hopeful that I can live more fully out (especially after a year of having to live fully in). I am hopeful that I can soon see people and hug my family. I am hopeful that so much goodness is waiting for me — us — you.
Even with so much still unknown and a year that will bring a lot of change, I still feel hopeful. And of course that doesn’t mean I don’t get scared or cranky or worried. I am hopeful that my voice will return and my writings will be expressed. I am hopeful that I can be quiet and still. I am hopeful that my inner compass will show me the way and love will lead me home.
And I am choosing to be hopeful. It’s a daily practice — and some days I am better at it than others.
My faith reminds me this time of year that from the darkness comes the light. Without the dark earth, flowers would not bloom. And so I too am rising from the dark earth with new life, new blooms, and new eyes. What are you unearthing? What is blooming inside of you? What has been waiting to bloom inside of you?
When Birds Squawk, I Listen
Thursday, January 23rd, 2020
One of the things I love about the winter is looking out my window and bird watching. It is especially beautiful this time of year because the trees are bare, so the birds are easier to see and find. The cardinals hang out in my backyard and the blue jays sprawl to the highest height to look around. The mockingbirds hang out on the utility wire and the small sparrows find their way to the bottom of the bushes. I like to think they are “hunkering down” when the winds, rain, and snow comes blowing their way.
I have noticed that there have been less birds this winter. As I sit with my coffee on the weekends, I look out my window and notice that the sky is quiet – not a single bird around me. I wasn’t sure what had changed from last winter to this one until a hawk appeared a few weeks ago right outside my window. Now I know why the birds were hiding – they are afraid of the hawk!
This past weekend the birds returned to the front and back of the house. I love watching their behavior. Suddenly, a blue jay started screaming. It was clearly an alarm to the other birds that there was danger nearby. It began to imitate the red-tailed hawk. The loud screams and distressed cries were a warning to other birds. Quickly, birds began to flee and disappear to get away from the hawk.
I began to think about the birds and their survival techniques. I thought about how they support and defend one another (not always, I know). But I was reminded how the blue jays quickly began to warn the other birds when they knew danger was coming. I admired that the blue jays knew when and how to cry out for help and the other birds listened. Sometimes, I too, have no words when I want to cry out for help. Sometimes I want to scream out when I see other family members or friends in danger or sense their pain. Sometimes, I too, want to hunker down and feel the protection of the shrubs and the miracle of nature.
I haven’t yet mastered the wild call of the blue jays to warn others nor have I mastered my ability to cry out when I need more support. Maybe the blue jays will show me how. Maybe the birds will give me the gift of knowing when to appear and when to hunker down. For now, I listen to the call of the birds as a reminder that everything will be alright.