Halos of hope

This morning I was awakened by birdsong! And then saw a hare, and then heard the wrens in their gleeful “our babies are coming, our babies are coming!” chorale. Oh and just now I ran right into a tiny bird on my porch with a beak full of dog hair—oh what a lively ecosystem.

Something is coming and I don’t know what it is season is here again—it comes twice a year with our Falls and Springs — in Fall, this statement is often tinged with dread, in Spring it is haloed by hope.

Being awakened by birdsong brings me such delight as it is exceptionally rare that I am not up long before the birds… sometimes so long before that I can barely wait for them to begin their song to break the silence and solitude. With birdsong and with blooms come the fading of the season of silence and solitude, and most motions begin to push us up and out. How good, how tender for some of us, and this can also be the self-forgetting season as we are carried by the movements of the external.

My wish for us all as we rise back up and out, as we respond to the call from outside, don’t lose yourself — or when you lose yourself, remember to return home — solitude and silence are always available and a small dose can go a long way in guiding us towards what is truly wanted by us, for us, of us.

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