Perfect Moments: The Ducks

When I was a little girl, my bed was situated right by the window and every morning I would wake up to the sound of sparrows rustling around in the leaves of the cherry trees in the yard. To me, those little birds were my friends coming to say hello and believing myself to be some kind of real-life Snow White, I would actually sit there and try to talk to them and say hello back to them. I swore that they could understand me and that at any minute they would come near, land on my outstretched arms, and sing me a song to start off my day (yes, I realize by sharing this that I am admitting to being somewhat of a strange child:) ). Since then, I have always had a fondness for little, living creatures, and for nature, in general.

Today's perfect moment came when my son and I were at the park. We had flown a kite, thrown some tennis balls around, and then decided to go visit the ducks. Since it is Spring, there are several mother-father pairs of ducks swimming around with their newly-hatched ducklings. I think ducklings are possibly the most adorable newbies in the bird family. Anyway, my son wanted to get a closer look (as usual). So, I explained to him that the mommy duck would not let us get close to the babies if she thought we were there to harm them and that we would have to be very still and calm and tell the mommy that we didn't want to hurt her babies, we just wanted to see how they are learning to swim better. And that is exactly what we did. While my son started whispering softly to the mommy duck, she looked at him and gave a soft whisper of a quack in response as if to say, "Ok, you can look, but if you get too close...beware." The ducklings came very close to us and we laughed as we watched them splash around and bicker with each other, all the while keeping a close eye on the mommy duck who, in turn, was keeping a close eye on us. Watching my son and hearing him talk to the ducklings and their mommy was what brought to memory those times when I saw the sparrows outside my window as a little girl....good, simple moments. And, it made me happy to think that my son (if he is fortunate enough to live a full life and have his own children) might be reminded of today and our encounter with the ducks by his own kids one day. It is the cyclical nature of things that continues to make new things old and old things new. It is a fascinating phenomena to observe.

Listen to the Trees...

I have just returned from an enchanted weekend spent in the company of an immense forest of wise evergreens. From the moment we reached the foot of the mountain, throughout our four-day retreat, and all the way back down again, I was greeted by the gentle lulling of the wind blowing through their pointed leaves. They used their flighty companion, the wind, to send down a message. It gently touched against my cheek and blew past each ear. Though there were numerous distractions that beckoned my attention, I could not tune out their poignant words. What was it? What was the message that they whispered down to me? It was a truth. One that chills to the bone and at the same time heightens one’s senses.

It was the truth that one day, I, like every other being that has breath, will perish and become part of the earth under their rooted feet. It was the inescapable truth that I am a mortal being. One need only to look at the grandeur and the sheer size of these pine-scented sages to see what a small, piece of the puzzle we are in this mystery called the universe. Is this something new? Of course not. It is the same message they have been speaking from the beginning of time. But, we forget. We spend our days running at a dizzying pace, filling the atmosphere around us with noise to drown their voice out. We avoid silence. We avoid stillness. We FEAR them. Why?

Because we know what they will say. We know that we will be reminded of our mortality and that is not agreeable to us. But, why should we fear it? Do the trees speak to us as though to taunt…like an older sibling does his brother when he gains permission to do something his younger brother cannot? No. Their voice is not one that taunts. It is not one that jeers. It is one that soothes. If you pay attention closely, you will hear it. In the rustling of their needles, you will hear the distinct sound of empathy. And if you train your ear with the greatest degree of excellence, you may even hear the sound of thankfulness. They are thankful to us, for everything is tied together. One thing does not exist without the other. Those tall, peaceful beings owe their height, in part, to us for they would not have the soil around their roots to nourish their growth if our bodies did not disintegrate into the dirt. And in their thankfulness, they, in turn, provide for us clean air, cool shade, and sober thoughts. So, rather than be afraid—rather than try to drown out their voice, maybe we should, instead, look to them and say…"Thank You" AND "You’re Welcome”.