That early spring malaise permeated my being when I awakened Monday morning. It had been a weekend of ecstatic dancing with friends, deep meditation periods, and blessed companionship with my husband. Facing my worklife (angry adolescent males), homelife (sloppy adolescent males) and grey skies, I challenged myself to lift the shroud and get with the moment by pulling on my boots and winter jacket to walk our property. It's not a big spread, only an acre, but the dogs and I have made a path around the perimeters, weaving among the ponderosas, around the motorcycle, under the lilacs and along the ditch. They are patrolling, I am strolling to bring gratitude to my molecular level.
I had not but gone around the end of the house when the sweet high tseee of cedar waxwings filled my ears. I stopped to find their roost. They were overhead in the hawthorne tree. There had to be seventy or eighty (how does one ever count birds?), and they competed with another flock across the street on the tall ash tree. (They are fruit lovers!) Periodically 30 or so would dive across the yard, fly through the 4 x 4 fencing to land at the perimeters of a large puddle. They'd drink furtively, always on the lookout for predators, then zoom up into the tree again. Their flight sounded like taffita pantlegs rubbing together, their wings invisable in motion.
They moved as fast as my thoughts, only they weren't thinking! They moved in such perfect synchrony, unlike me and my clan. Perhaps it was lifting my eyes, or stopping the world to take in this fine clan of feathered cousins making a huge spectacle of themselves? When I returned to my body I felt a huge grin on my face, and such lightness in my step. The day unfolded gently, with the memory of the wax wings, their yellow tail feathers tips and dark red wing feather tips fluttering in my inner sight, their cacophy echoing in the back of my mind.
Today it is quiet, they have moved on, but their memory hasn't. I'm glad I could share it with you. Fly with the wax wings today!
1 comment:
Star, I see you have a similar relationship to birds as I. How they can lift our spirits!! I love how you talk about bringing gratitude to our molecular level. I think that is exactly how it feels. I love your description of the waxwings and their flight. Yes they love the mountain ash and I have seen them there in great numbers too. They seem to leave the trees for a long time through the winter and I often wonder whether they leave them til last or perhaps they migrate and return to them. Some of our waxwings here are "Bohemian" not "cedar" I started to write a piece on that, reflecting on the word bohemian and the idea of freedom it invokes. I am reflecting also on how you mention that the memory stays with you. Ofcourse. In my writing about the dipper bird, I end by saying the spell was broken. I have been thinking of adding a line because the spell was not really broken ; only for the moment. The feeling of joy and gratitude lingers.........Radha
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