I have a writing deadline on September 15 for a book chapter on American persimmons. This project is taking up most of my time, but it is hard not to write about birds, especially after the incredible morning I had a few days ago. A new wave of migrants arrived overnight, eager to bathe in a small creek in one of our urban parks. I walked along the creek, and over the course of 15 minutes, I had six wary birds perch in the open at close range. The images I captured are the best ones I have for these species. It was a surreal experience.
With these birds, we normally enact an “I’m playing hard to get” routine: I raise my camera, and they fly away. This time, something was different. The birds seemed as curious about me as I was about them.
My favorite moment from this outing occurred as I stood still amidst a flock of American Goldfinches. The finches are wary, but they get habituated to people in a setting as busy as an urban park. There were walking trails on either side of a small restored prairie. A big patch of purple coneflowers drew them in. After 15 minutes of standing still, they seemed to consider me part of the prairie. They settled all around me, some of them within 6 feet. I watched one female perched atop a coneflower stop feeding, preen a little, open her bill wide, and become still.
I could see her slowly blinking, and then she took a nap. I was drawn into her peaceful moment, and the rest of the world fell away.
I shared this story with a fellow finch lover who works at a bird shelter. She told me that if you get close to a sleeping finch, you can hear them make soft calls as they dream.
This is one of my new goals in life. I want to hear the sound of finch dreams.
I also want to help more people have experiences like this. This felt-sense prayer shared by Tara Brach highlights the root cause of our separation from ourselves and birds. So many people walked by these little golden miracles without glancing in their direction. There are things you can do to intentionally open yourself up and become more receptive to your surroundings. This prayer by an unknown author is the inner voice we all have speaking to us.
I am the pain in your head, the knot in your stomach, the unspoken grief in your smile. I'm your high blood pressure, your fear of challenge, your lack of trust. I'm your hot flashes, your fragile low back, your agitation, and your fatigue.
You tend to disown me, suppress me, ignore me, inflate me, coddle me, and condemn me. You usually want me to go away immediately, to disappear back into obscurity. More times than not, I'm only the most recent notes of a long symphony, the most evident branches of roots that have been challenged for seasons.
So, I implore you. I am a messenger with good news, as disturbing as I can be at times. I want to guide you back to those tender places in yourself, the place where you can hold yourself with compassion and honesty. I may ask you to alter your diet, get more sleep, exercise regularly, and breathe more consciously. I might encourage you to seek a vaster reality and worry less about the day-to-day fluctuations of life. I may ask you to explore the bonds and the wounds of your relationships.
Wherever I lead you, my hope is that you will realize that success will not be measured by my eradication, but by the shift in the internal landscape from which I emerge. I am your friend, not your enemy. I belong. I have no desire to bring pain and suffering into your life. I'm simply tugging at your sleeve, too long immune to gentle nudges.
I desire for you to allow me to speak to you in a way that enlivens your higher instincts for self-care. My charge is to energize you, to listen to me with the sensitive ear and heart of a mother attending to her precious baby. You are a being so vast, so complex, with amazing capacities for self-regulation and healing. Let me be one of the harbingers that lead you to the mysterious core of your being, where insight and wisdom are naturally available when called upon with a sincere heart.
Author unknown. Shared by Tara Brach
Thank you for taking time out of your writing deadline to share your post.
As always, it didn’t disappoint. Loved the poem at the end, I certainly can relate!
Dreaming finches (and birds in general…), such a potent image. And to say thank you! for your ever-lovely photos…