“Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark.” - Rabindranath Tagore
This quote is so apropos for me right now. I literally have a nest full of birds and eggs that have gathered themselves to perch upon my patio terrace right outside my living room window. Why they’ve chosen us and why they’ve chosen me to share a window into their beautiful creation of life, I can’t know or understand why, but I’m happy to be here. To be witness, to take in the spectacle and wonder of it all. To allow it and to be gifted by their presence. Hoping not to be a burden or a nuisance on them and their developing family.
What a spectacle! What an honor to be chosen in this way. To watch and witness the caring, the nurturing, the sacrifice it takes to brood a family. The toll it takes on the mother. The nervousness the father appears to have, worrying if he’s doing enough. Is he doing enough? From the squawks and squeals I hear from the mother, I’m guessing no. She nags him daily, reminding him not to stray too far, not to get too distracted, not to wander away and forget the beautiful life they’re creating together. She needs nourishment and he offers that to her daily, bringing little mouthfuls of “take away” to-go orders from the nearby stop & shop for birds, whatever that might be.
They are lovely. Their singing beautifies the air with a grace and presence that is now constant. Had I noticed it before? Had they always been here in our yard, lurking in the shadows of the Cyprus above? Or are they newly transplanted from some far off local? Either way, no matter. I love them for what they are and what they’ve brought.
There is promise here – something a new, something being born, something being birthed into the world. So pure and natural and elemental. Creation. It’s been happening since the beginning of time, and yet to sit and watch delicately from my living room window, it brings with it new focus, new precision into the intricacies of what is required. Could I ever do that myself? Could I ever birth something into the world like they are? God, I hope so. God, I pray that one day I’m as strong as that little brown mother bird who has carried the weight of her many eggs to finally bequeath them into the trusted fold of that little twiglet nest. I pray that one day I have that same strength to relinquish something from my own body and to gift it to the raw, real, natural world – that may not care for it as much as I have, or that dear little mother bird has.
And so patiently we await it all to hatch…
