Tuesday, January 14, 2014
On Sunday morning it was the song of birds. I noticed birds singing, their chirpy refrain a reveille to my early morning grogginess. It seems they had something to say. Something important. "Hey, we are here, silly woman running. We are awake and welcoming this new day! Be awake with us and welcome it too!"
I heard it. And then I understood it. They were still singing, even after the crazy weather of the previous week, they were still singing. I see them perched up high, resting blithely on tender branches. And even though they are so small I wonder that they can be held by something so tenuous looking. But they greet me still.
The weather last week had become frighteningly cold. Bitter. Frigid. We stayed inside the warmth, shielded from the frozen air and ground and wind. I wondered about survival in such extreme conditions. The news even spoke of caring for large land animals. Without proper care, exposure could mean certain death.
This is the wonder of it all--little beings so fragile, without human hand to shield them from the biting cold, live to sing about it. They sing, as tiny reminders of life's strength. My assumptions of life's frailty were wrong; I hear the error in their song.
We too go through the extremes, don't we? We are so involved in trying to just. get. through. that we sometimes fail to see how those seconds and minutes and hours add up. We lose perspective because there is no time to not strive; each moment we give ourselves wholly to the surviving of the thing, slipping silently into a better place, an easier place. And we hardly even notice it because we are still straining against our adversities just tying to make it another day.
I wonder when we will look back at the journey that has been, and pinch ourselves when we realize what we've come through? When will we realize we are tougher than we gave ourselves credit for? Which day will we wake up singing and know that the thing we had to come through did not have the power to take our song?