Dear Miracle

Setting free the beautiful truth inside.

Bird Talk and the Gift of Noticing

9 Comments


American-Robin-and-berries

“Waiting for my girlfriend”, he told me,

sitting there patiently on the rooftop.

He was quite the looker—for a Robin that is,

with his bright orange chest all stuck out,

all proud like, positioning himself for

the little beauty soon to arrive.

Right away he caught my attention as he sailed down from the sky, expertly landing on the edge of a neighbor’s roof. Settling in for a wait, he sat there, looking at me—he could feel my eyes boring holes through him, admiring his handsome beauty. That’s when he decided to strike up a short conversation with me. Anyway, he must have sensed I was kind of curious to know what he had to say for himself.

It was just about the time I happened to be leaning out the back porch door across the drive. A full bloom jasmine spring evening, everywhere birds were chattering in that wonderful kind of music they do—it was a full on orchestra playing. The dishes could wait. I couldn’t stand it a moment longer and made a beeline for the door to eavesdrop in on their conversation and enjoy the scarlet remnants of a setting sun. It’s mating season around here, and birds beginning to feather their nests, chattering from tree to tree, flying here and there. We humans seldom pay them any mind, so consumed by the frenetic pace of our lives, but this eve, I was listening.

I guess he thought he wasn’t close enough because he scooted himself over several feet to the very corner of the roof where we could get a better look at one another. I wondered if I was hearing him correctly or if I was just a silly human over-imagining things when he told me his girlfriend would soon be there. We humans can be quite dim when it comes to bird language, or for that matter, any other mother tongue of another.  We sat there staring at one another for a while until suddenly he whistled the most lilting little love tune. A moment later in response, the same love notes sang out from a distant tree. And a few minutes after that, here she came, a delicate little beauty, orange breasted, swooping in, landing on the ground, hopping around, checking out this thing and that.

Swooping down from his perch, they were both unexpectedly and quickly in front of me. He had brought her over to where I was to introduce me to his little sweetie. They pranced around at the bottom of the porch steps, hopping by the garden all happy and proud, keeping me in their line of sight all the while. They stayed a couple more minutes, taking off quickly in flight at first sight of an approaching car. I bade them farewell and happy nesting.

What a magnificent gift—this gift of noticing, slowing down long enough to listen to the larger conversation that is taking place in our everyday lives, to actively find where love lives, to see who and what is paying attention to us. It surprised me that in my witness of this magnificent nature being, I was noticed in return, a continuing affirmation I am always seen, a vital part of this whole beautiful mess called life—a realization that trumps the nightly news of war, disaster and nonstop pronouncements that the sky is falling any minute now. Life goes on out there in the world, up there in the sky, creating and recreating itself over and over again when and where you think it never could. The funny thing about love, it’s always there waiting for you somewhere. Paying attention, as I sometimes forget to do, can definitely help. You find love in the unlikeliest of places, the most unexpected, too.

Tomorrow, just as an experiment, determine to notice where the love is in your life. Notice the little acts of kindness that cross your path. Notice the people that pay attention. See who is begging for love or in need of witness. Notice the natural world around you waiting to be seen, even longing to bend down and share its secrets with you, its praise songs that ring from tree to tree and star to star even when no one is listening

In any event, I have it on good authority that the sky is not falling, not today or tomorrow or ever. There’s still plenty of love holding it all together, being born everywhere, no matter how it looks to the human eye. How do I know? A little birdie told me.

Advertisements

Author: dearmiracle

The hardest thing you will ever do is tell yourself the truth. This is about that. Vulnerability, becoming comfortable with ambiguity and answers that don't always arrive when we think they should. Living in that liminal space, a threshold of not always knowing becomes a sweet spot, a place of opening again and again.

9 thoughts on “Bird Talk and the Gift of Noticing

  1. Hi there just wanted to give you a quick heads up. The text in your post seem to be running offf the screen
    in Opera. I’m not sure iif this is a format issue or something to do with internet
    browser compatibility but I figured I’d post to let you know.

    The layout look great though! Hope you get the problem sokved soon.
    Cheers

    Like

  2. I love watching birds flying overhead or listening to them in the trees. I notice them always. There’s something about them that appeals to my heart.

    Like

  3. Susie; this was wonderfully written! It reminds us that the beauty of nature is not exclusively for the physical eyes of the body, but also the eyes of the soul….and your writing here speaks the words of my heart.

    Like

  4. Thank you, Tom!!!! I really appreciate that. Admittedly, I felt most satisfied with it, too, after writing it.

    Like

  5. A fantastic read. I count this amongst the best you’ve ever done. It begs me as the reader too slow myself in my everyday actions and observe all that is around me.

    Like

  6. lovely Susan and just what I needed to hear.

    Like

    • Thank you, Linda! I have had family visiting and not a moment to write this. It has been burning holes in my brain. It was a magical experience, indeed, one evening last week having this little chat with this beautiful little guy.

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s