I meditate for about 20 minutes each morning. Some mornings, like this one, I sat on the front porch and inhaled the cacophony of sounds, smells and light. I had a front row seat to what I believe is the most amazing symphony known to us. Somewhere, each morning and evening, a divine conductor taps her baton once, maybe twice, and the harmony begins. I am grateful to be invited into this mystery. The birds begin with a chirp back and forth across the yard, the cicada begin to hum. I can smell the lilies and catch sight of the rabbits hopping in time to this song. They tell me I am part of them and they of me and that as we focus the lens broader and wider we start to realize that we are woven into this rich tapestry. Somewhere in my head a line from a song of my youth dances,"Bet you feel small, it happens to us all."
I open my eyes and I see two birds. They are young and full of courage. They walk up to the bottom step and they look at me and I swear one of them cocked its head towards its sibling as if it say "I wonder what THAT is."Mom built her nest in the stones of our garage sometime in March
We watched her nest, then hatch, and unfortunately lose two young birds to neighborhood cats. We saw her push them into the bushes, then onto the lawn. We ran to the house when she dive bombed us if we came to close to them.
But now they are teenagers. They resemble miniature versions of their parents, one male and one female. The strut around the flower beds pulling out worms and bugs puffing out their small chests and generally having a good time.
They are not scared of us. We'll sit in the porch and they'll sit in the flower bed snacking and don't seem to mind our presence. As we move around they stay put, never frightened away.
This morning, since God had invited me into the days preview I became bold. Like that statue of St Francis I reached out my hand with a small bit of cracker.....I heard mom before I saw her, shrieking, flapping and heading straight for me. I scooted back to the security of my porch and she looked at me with menace in her eyes. Her two kids were hopping around like none of this was a big deal and "Oh yeah, mom could ya chill just a bit!" She stayed with them until I went into the house. I came out later on and they had vanished. I felt sorry for them. They were probably in the bird equivalent of a "time out."
We're not born afraid, we acquire it. It serves us well to protect us from the things that wish to harm us but mostly I think it holds us back, at least it does me. If I were to sit down and catalog all my fears I might have to block out an entire morning. So maybe, like those two young birds,I just might go hopping up a few unknown sidewalks and taste the bugs and worms of a different experience and be ready to accept the cracker crumbs of a new life and world.
Ya never know, do ya?