praying to the birds

“Once upon a time, when women were birds, there was the simple understanding that to sing at dawn and to sing at dusk was to heal the world through joy. The birds still remember what we have forgotten, that the world is meant to be celebrated.”

― Terry Tempest Williams, When Women Were Birds: Fifty-four Variations on Voice

I sit one evening on the wooden coffee table in our family room with my camera pointed out the door where I have a perfect view of the bird feeders. I am hidden enough that the birds pay me no mind. I use my older, heavier camera as it seems to be sharper with the big lens I am holding. (I think it is a matter of the operator and not the lens or the camera.) The cast on my right hand is awkward and my hand gets tired as I fumble with settings, but I stay put for a good thirty minutes or so. Most of the time the camera is sitting in my lap as I rest my hand and just I watch the frolicking going on at the feeder, something I would have never done before. Before I would have shot off 35 or so shots, crossed my fingers and gotten up and walked right to my office, excited to see what I captured. On this evening I am happy to get 10 or so shots and delighted even more with the evening light and the birds.

There are so many lessons in life I still need to learn.

“I pray to the birds. I pray to the birds because I believe they will carry the messages of my heart upward. I pray to them because I believe in their existence, the way their songs begin and end each day—the invocations and benedictions of Earth. I pray to the birds because they remind me of what I love rather than what I fear. And at the end of my prayers, they teach me how to listen.”

― Terry Tempest Williams, Refuge: An Unnatural History of Family and Place

passing judgement

“When you judge yourself for needing help, you judge those you are helping. When you attach value to giving help, you attach value to needing help. The danger of tying your self-worth to being a helper is feeling shame when you have to ask for help. Offering help is courageous and compassionate, but so is asking for help.”

― Brené Brown, Rising Strong: The Reckoning. The Rumble. The Revolution.

I am three weeks into this broken wrist thing and slowly learning to ask for help. I admit, I was somewhat flabbergasted that not everyone was noticing how I was struggling to meet my needs, making me even more determined not to ask. But that only resulted in frustration and resentment setting in, which didn’t help the situation at all. It really was so simple when I put aside the notion that they should just know what I needed and I started to ask. But it also made me give some thought into why I found the asking part so hard.

Judgement is such a sneaky emotion.

an afternoon on the nootsack

 

Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
to be understood.

How grass can be nourishing in the
mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds will
never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.

Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.

Let me keep company always with those who say
“Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.

- Mary Oliver

this was July

The garden explodes in July - flowers in every corner of the yard and fresh veggies with every meal. Percy turn 2 1/2 and suddenly seems so big. We stick to our Tuesday walks and dig out the water play toys when we play outside The mama deer bring their babies out to play each morning and I stand in the kitchen to watch. I don’t attempt to break their frolicking with my camera but do capture some juveniles in the front yard helping themselves to breakfast. He gets his long awaited pacemaker and a few days later I break my right wrist. Both of us now down to one arm. Frustration is soon relieved with a new attitude where I find peace, laughter and gratitude. I connect with old friends and he and I plan a trip for September.

July brings growth all around it seems, and I allow myself to wallow in it with contentment and love.

 

“If I had my way, I'd remove January from the calendar altogether and have an extra July instead.”

- Roald Dahl

today

Today I got a beautiful purple cast on my right arm. I only have to wear it three weeks! I admit I feel much safer as my doc told me my wrist is very protected now. But the best part is she said, if it doesn’t hurt, you can pick up your camera!

PS: The zinnias are blooming!

“I am doing something I learned early to do, I am

paying attention to small beauties,

whatever I have-as if it were our duty

to find things to love, to bind ourselves to this world.”

― Sharon Olds, Strike Sparks: Selected Poems, 1980-2002

"Resentment, bitterness, and holding a grudge prevent us from seeing and hearing and tasting and delighting."

— Pema Chödrön (The Wisdom of No Escape: And The Path of Loving-Kindness: How to Love Yourself and Your World)

My friend Donna sends me a beautiful email. It is simple and brief and so full of wisdom that I print it off and tape it to the wall next to my desk. I read it again this morning, and see the beautiful opportunity that has been put before me. An opportunity to stop fighting with my life. A chance to let go of the resentment and anger that I have held on to for far too long, losing sight of love. Instead of looking for a crack through all that resentment, why not let love be the guide to a more peaceful path. A broken wrist is the perfect time to sort through what is truly important and letting go of what does not serve me well. And the chance to walk with him, as his fancy new device adjusts to his - no make that our lifestyle, is a gift.

I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted.

still here

“Life has its way, and it seems to me now that the object might only be to learn how to be graceful, to understand the value of a deep kind of acceptance.”

― Elizabeth Berg, The Pull of the Moon

i dig these images out of the archives, as I can’t hold my camera, and my phone is just not the same. Frustration builds as I hunt and peck for letters, and I am irritated easily with the computer. My arm gets tired and so I stop often to rest it, allowing the resentment I feel to waver some.

There are things I want to say about frustration and acceptance, as both have played a major roll in my days since this injury. But maybe the goal today is just to connect a bit, allow myself to put a few words down for proof that I am still here - learning to turn frustration into moments of growth and open communication.