Posted on Apr 15, 2011
Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn’t people feel as free to delight in whatever remains to them?
~Rose F. Kennedy
The middle of April has snuck up on me. Wish spring would do the same. Snow, snow, and more snow. While generally I am a fan of the fluffy, white stuff, this year I’m ready to cancel my club membership.
However, last evening I had a lesson from the birds. As we drove through the countryside, we witnessed puddle after puddle crowded with aquatic fowl. It always captures my heart and mind when I see Mallard Ducks and Canada Geese gathering together while stopping for the night on their migratory journeys.
And what a better way to pause from shoveling snow, then to stop and listen to birds sing?
Our current residence is without trees, bird feeder, and birds. It is very quiet. However, last night we had to check on our former property and shovel the snow so the new owners could gain access. This location backed onto a treed green space. With the mix of new snowfall and melt water, the low spots were full of water—and birds. So were the trees and overhead wires. The birds were happily singing. And what was I doing in similar conditions? Not singing, that’s for sure.
Here it is the middle of April. The birds are on their annual quest for their summer homes. And what do they encounter? Winter weather. What they left to escape back in the fall. Their usual food sources and nesting areas are obscured by frozen precipitation. Yet they sing. The beauty of their communal song made the gentle snowfall of earlier in the day appear like a violent storm in contrast.
My life certainly has not been interrupted or inconvenienced to the extent of these wild beings. Yet I grumble while they sing. Amazing. It was indeed calming to stand still, watch, listen, and learn in the company of these accommodating creatures.
So I gained a few things from my feathered friends: 1) Calm; 2) Meditation; 3) Entertainment; 4) Perspective. I am exceedingly grateful for the moments I claimed as my own to appreciate my fellow travelling companions. While our journeys differ, we can enhance each other’s experience along the way.
A bittersweet moment. I will miss not having the birds around to soothe, entertain, and teach me. If only the snow would melt and the sun shine so that I could plant a tree, hang a bird feeder, and await their arrival.
What moment can you claim as your own to contemplate, find calm, and regain perspective?
“I want to sing like the birds sing—not worrying about who hears or what they think.”
~ Rumi
“Use what talents you possess: the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best.”
~ Henry Van Dyke
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Posted on Sep 14, 2010
“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under the trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time”
~John Lubbock
Life can be very draining—as well as uplifting and energizing. However, at this moment in time, I am intimately acquainted with the former.
With all that has been going on lately, I have become increasingly aware of the importance of rest. Not just physical rest, but emotional and mental rest. While both forms of rest have their challenges—like getting to bed at a decent hour—the emotional and mental strains wear a person down differently and can be harder to address. When coupled together (physical and psychological fatigue), it becomes a train wreck waiting to happen.
This of course reminds me of my journey metaphor for life. It is for good reason that certain trails in various communities and hiking systems have benches placed strategically along the way. Sometimes these benches offer a great view, other times they are placed at the top (or even midway) of a strenuous incline. They can come in all shapes and sizes. Some rustic, others ornate, often influenced by their location. A few are even au natural—such as a fallen tree that is perfectly situated as a rest spot.
Life’s journey can be like that. Our rest spots can be rustic, ornate, or au natural. Sometimes we have to work hard at finding and/or making time for rest. Other times a tree falls in our way demanding that we stop for a minute and reassess where we are going.
Times of rejuvenation and refreshment can be ornate, like a tropical cruise, or as simple as a walk in a nearby park but away from the regular demands for our time and attention. And there are times when just a diversion will do—whether that be participating in the thrills at an amusement park, or losing oneself and one’s cares in a good book, television program, or movie.
Lately, I’ve come to realize that 5 minute rest breaks are also good for the soul—such as listening undistracted to a favourite song, watching the sun set (or rise), sip a cup of tea while watching the birds outside the window. Restful moments can be created anywhere, anytime. Takes a little practice—kind of like mindfulness—but once they are part of the routine, they can slow down an out-of-control day.
So my question to you is, what settles your spirit? What do you do to catch your breath? If you are running downhill or straining to make it uphill, what kind of bench would you like built into the pathways of your journey?
May you find the rest your spirit yearns for as you continue on.
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Posted on Jul 15, 2010
Last month, in amongst the mindfulness of beauty, I raised the subject of adding soul to your life—or what can be thought of as living soulfully. This isn’t a new idea, or one unique to me. I have been encountering it in a number of different ways, but principally through reading Care of the Soul by Thomas Moore (1992).
Trying to simplify this subject into a single blog entry will be a bit of a challenge, but hopefully I can find a single nugget to present or package a few key ideas. Moore develops several themes in his book including defining soul. I will leave that to your own imagination and worldview. However you conceive of your soul, this entry will simply be to introduce you to, or encourage you to live, giving daily consideration to what your soul needs. Another theme that is crucial to the development of caring for the soul is that of mystery. In order to embrace soul, one also has to be open to the element of mystery—not easily done in our intellectually based society.
Intertwining all these themes, Moore tells us,
“The act of entering into the mysteries of the soul, without sentimentality or pessimism, encourages life to blossom forth according to its own designs and with its own unpredictable beauty. Care of the soul is not solving the puzzle of life; quite the opposite, it is an appreciation of the paradoxical mysteries that blend light and darkness into the grandeur of what human life and culture can be.”
(p. xix)
He goes on to say that,
“Observance of the soul can be deceptively simple. You take back what has been disowned. You work with what is, rather than with what you wish were there.” (p. 9)
I don’t know about you, but for me this is fairly significant—and maybe not as simple as suggested. To accept what is—and work with it—is profoundly straightforward yet extremely challenging. So often that is the hardest part—to accept what we have to work with—and to then work with it rather than deny, hide, or ignore it. For the most part, in striving for what we wish to be, we miss out on soul—the very essence of our being.
So where does one start with caring for the soul and hence living soulfully? Obviously we must acknowledge the existence of soul if we are going to care for it. In Moore’s overview of this endeavor we hear the basis of mindfulness:
“Care of the soul requires ongoing attention to every aspect of life. Essentially it is a cultivation of ordinary things in such a way that soul is nurtured and fostered.” (p. 177)
Ongoing attention. Cultivation of ordinary things. This concept is applicable to the gamut of human experience: from washing dishes to decorating for holidays and celebrations. This reminds me of another aspect of mindfulness worthy of further exploration—finding meaning and purpose in the randomness (and rituals) of life.
The final thought I would like to leave with you from Moore’s book is this,
“…when we try to live fully consciously in an intellectually predictable world, protected from all mysteries and comfortable with conformity, we lose our everyday opportunities for the soulful life. The intellect wants to know; the soul likes to be surprised.” (p. 233)
May you be pleasantly surprised in the days to come as your soul is nurtured and fostered by honouring the ordinariness of your life.
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