Ruth I am blown away by responses to this that flowed out of me effortlessly. Your comments re boundaries have taken me aback and my own words from where ever they came. I know where they have been birthed a background of extreme sexual abuse. ATM i am trying to edit the words into a poem and will submit it somewhere.
There is an unsettling static in the Florida air this week and your words on birds quieted it somehow. The brilliant Robin Wall Kimmerer and her book Gathering Moss came to mind:
“There is an ancient conversation going on between mosses and rocks, poetry to be sure. About light and shadow and the drift of continents. This is what has been called the "dialect of moss on stone - an interface of immensity and minuteness, of past and present, softness and hardness, stillness and vibrancy, yin and yang”― Robin Wall Kimmerer, Gathering Moss: A Natural and Cultural History of Mosses
As this week unfolds, may we cling to the solid spaces around us, remaining rooted in our common ground.
You're welcome, Beth! She has a new book coming out this month and it seems to be in keeping with Padraig's post: The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World
thank you for reminding me about "murmuration'. My house on a corner seems to be that dawn and dusk gathering for a regular conference of crows. They squawk loudly but I've never seen one attack another.
Funny because I felt drawn to a book that has been waiting on my shelf to be read for quite a long time. Just yesterday I picked it up and began to read. Maybe I too was searching for inspiration in other-than-human living beings in a moment when I am feeling particularly untrusting of governance. And I found these words:
If every tree were looking out only for itself, then quite a few of them would never reach old age… Every tree…valuable to the community and worth keeping around for as long as possible…The trees don't want to take anything away from each other, and so they develop sturdy branche only at the outer edges of their crowns.
So my answer: trees.
From the book, The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben
My first thought was the Carolina wren, which flits and flutters and calls around our house on a regular basis.
But then I thought the about the Limax Maximus — the leopard slug. Walking a footpath at school the other day, a leopard slug was a quarter of the way across the stone desert between two grassy sides. I couldn’t seeit’s body move— but I could see where it had come from. I couldn’t tell if it saw me—but I did notice its antenna sway and turn as I passed. It moved on in the face of the entire world turning and it wasn’t til this moment that I see a hope in its instinctual striving.
Turning to animals seems to me a wise thing. I like crows. I also love cats for their self-governance which is the first one to have if we want to live peacefully in co-intelligence and co-creation. Animals to me also refer of course to parts of me that are both raw, wild, wise. I think of my neurodivergent part which makes me a creature able to distinguish the unicity of another person, creature, being, as well as being able to connect (and of course a passion for animal ways of living). This world is a jungle but as Merton said "No man is an island". Whatever the outcome for you in the States, I know we will keep nurturing belonging and joy through poetry. Take care everyone.
We have an osprey nest at the end of a dilapidated dock. It sits a couple of feet off the water, at high tide. Of course they’re gone now, after producing and fledging two chicks. The osprey’s story is like your long tailed tit, similar to many birds I assume. They’ll arrive back in the spring, hauling sticks, some almost too big to carry, and seaweed. I believe it’s cousins who are also around the nest at this point, last year’s fledglings. It’s all beautiful to watch. Comings and goings. With sticks and fish. She does most of the sitting, he most of the fishing. Mother leaves first and father helps the weaker sibling ready for its departure and then, one day, they’re all gone.
I’ve been listening to Carl Sarina’s book Allie and Me: what Owls Know What People Think about his rescue of an Easter Screech Owl that fell from a nest, and the subsequent year where she mated and successfully raised a brood of three. The author’s ability to hear and see her, and his unease on days she doesn’t appear have been a good place to invest my excess concerns these last weeks of campaigns. I’ve never seen or identified the calls of a screech owl, but in winter months have loved hearing Great Horned Owls late at night.
The white wolf came to me in a dream and stealthily approached. His nearness startled me. Then his eyes met mine and when I stopped trembling, I felt peace, strength, protection, love. He is my totem.
"Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise! It has no commander, no overseer or ruler, yet it stores its provisions in summer and gathers its food at harvest".
I love the birds. "Yea, the sparrow hath found her an house." "Not one sparrow is forgotten." "They neither toil nor...." But these days, my mantra, and it came quite unbidden, is "Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all." Hope, not as a naive optimism, but as a resident of the soul.
Trees
The underground system of solidarity
trunk steadfast strong bearing up
canopy reaching towards…while keeping
distance for all must see the sun
Branches a holding space for
nests, insects beetles flies bugs
leaves that give and take then turn
to colours falling to replenish the earth
Living the seasons of growth
flowering to fruitfulness
then the winter of rest doing it all
over and over and over
I love this.....especially "while keeping distance for all must see the sun"
That might be the best definition of boundaries I have yet heard, even
if it wasn't intended by you. I don't particularly like the word boundaries.....but I like this a lot.
Ruth I am blown away by responses to this that flowed out of me effortlessly. Your comments re boundaries have taken me aback and my own words from where ever they came. I know where they have been birthed a background of extreme sexual abuse. ATM i am trying to edit the words into a poem and will submit it somewhere.
I like "underground system of solidarity." That's what I am going to call my friends now.
I am gob smacked that so many people have responded to this. Thank you very much
What a lovely idea
To all the invisible singers
Voices arriving here and there
Unapplauded, unacknowledged,
Betwixed branches and vines
From shadows and crevices,
Riding, it seams,
Rays and waves
Of light.
how nice ....Thank you
....This reminds me of a quote hanging on the wall of a gazebo I saw about 20 years ago at Interlochen School for the Arts
"Use the talents you possess
For the world would be quiet
If no birds sang, but the best"
I love this! I often feel like an invisible singer myself...! 🙏
All over the world, the tortoise is seen as a symbol for wisdom, security, peacefulness, longevity, patience, and perseverance.
The tortoise lives its life at a slow and steady pace.
I would also add hospitality and acceptance as they commonly share their burrows with other species of animals.
Lovely to learn that they share their burrows
My friend, Padraig,
it's always about birds,
this late autumn time
the juncos and the white-throats
return from the far north
they socialize with the chickadees, titmice,
nuthatches, small woodpeckers, jays,
cardinals, doves and wintering kinglets.
Why? I asked one day.
As it turns out, they cooperate
always looking out for the sharp-shinned
or the cooper's hawks, the kestrel or peregrine,
the clever hunters of the feathered
the small and seemingly meek bring more eyes
to the watch... more experience to the moment
Birds of very different feathers
circling the wagons
thriving in their numbers, their eyes
their calls and, one imagines, their ears
The junco and white-throat call joins the chatter,
lends new melody to the song,
the vigil
the watch
and the life
There is an unsettling static in the Florida air this week and your words on birds quieted it somehow. The brilliant Robin Wall Kimmerer and her book Gathering Moss came to mind:
“There is an ancient conversation going on between mosses and rocks, poetry to be sure. About light and shadow and the drift of continents. This is what has been called the "dialect of moss on stone - an interface of immensity and minuteness, of past and present, softness and hardness, stillness and vibrancy, yin and yang”― Robin Wall Kimmerer, Gathering Moss: A Natural and Cultural History of Mosses
As this week unfolds, may we cling to the solid spaces around us, remaining rooted in our common ground.
I love her work, and this particular essay, thank you for reminding me of it.
You're welcome, Beth! She has a new book coming out this month and it seems to be in keeping with Padraig's post: The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World
I'm eager to get my hands on it!
Rising, gath’ring, swirling
Hundreds fly together
in synchronicity.
Starlings, Blackbirds do it.
Murmuration.
thank you for reminding me about "murmuration'. My house on a corner seems to be that dawn and dusk gathering for a regular conference of crows. They squawk loudly but I've never seen one attack another.
Funny because I felt drawn to a book that has been waiting on my shelf to be read for quite a long time. Just yesterday I picked it up and began to read. Maybe I too was searching for inspiration in other-than-human living beings in a moment when I am feeling particularly untrusting of governance. And I found these words:
If every tree were looking out only for itself, then quite a few of them would never reach old age… Every tree…valuable to the community and worth keeping around for as long as possible…The trees don't want to take anything away from each other, and so they develop sturdy branche only at the outer edges of their crowns.
So my answer: trees.
From the book, The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben
xo Danni
My first thought was the Carolina wren, which flits and flutters and calls around our house on a regular basis.
But then I thought the about the Limax Maximus — the leopard slug. Walking a footpath at school the other day, a leopard slug was a quarter of the way across the stone desert between two grassy sides. I couldn’t seeit’s body move— but I could see where it had come from. I couldn’t tell if it saw me—but I did notice its antenna sway and turn as I passed. It moved on in the face of the entire world turning and it wasn’t til this moment that I see a hope in its instinctual striving.
I love the Carolina wren. That music!
So true! One was perched on our lawn chair this brisk morning and i felt as if it was calling to me this morning after my run.
I just heard a Carolina Wren this morning!
The Queen of Cats says she will see me now.
Though not spoken aloud, she rolls over on her
supple back and arches her brow,
signaling it is time for me to gently stroke her fur.
The outstretched paw means something else again.
The first time I saw her at the shelter,
her paw reaching through the cage had one command:
forget about my own advancing years and just choose her.
When bedtime comes and I turn off the lights,
now that royal touch asks me, “Shall I purr?”
She lulls us both to sleep every night:
from Her Highness to me, a tender gift has been conferred.
I worry who will be the first to go,
her loyal subject or the Queen of Cats?
Still, there’s no point in predicting sorrow.
Cats have always ruled in my life: may she not be the last.
Turning to animals seems to me a wise thing. I like crows. I also love cats for their self-governance which is the first one to have if we want to live peacefully in co-intelligence and co-creation. Animals to me also refer of course to parts of me that are both raw, wild, wise. I think of my neurodivergent part which makes me a creature able to distinguish the unicity of another person, creature, being, as well as being able to connect (and of course a passion for animal ways of living). This world is a jungle but as Merton said "No man is an island". Whatever the outcome for you in the States, I know we will keep nurturing belonging and joy through poetry. Take care everyone.
As a neurodivergent word-nerd, thank you Marion for introducing me to the word 'unicity'.
We have an osprey nest at the end of a dilapidated dock. It sits a couple of feet off the water, at high tide. Of course they’re gone now, after producing and fledging two chicks. The osprey’s story is like your long tailed tit, similar to many birds I assume. They’ll arrive back in the spring, hauling sticks, some almost too big to carry, and seaweed. I believe it’s cousins who are also around the nest at this point, last year’s fledglings. It’s all beautiful to watch. Comings and goings. With sticks and fish. She does most of the sitting, he most of the fishing. Mother leaves first and father helps the weaker sibling ready for its departure and then, one day, they’re all gone.
I’ve been listening to Carl Sarina’s book Allie and Me: what Owls Know What People Think about his rescue of an Easter Screech Owl that fell from a nest, and the subsequent year where she mated and successfully raised a brood of three. The author’s ability to hear and see her, and his unease on days she doesn’t appear have been a good place to invest my excess concerns these last weeks of campaigns. I’ve never seen or identified the calls of a screech owl, but in winter months have loved hearing Great Horned Owls late at night.
*Alfie and Me*
*safina*
The white wolf came to me in a dream and stealthily approached. His nearness startled me. Then his eyes met mine and when I stopped trembling, I felt peace, strength, protection, love. He is my totem.
The full excerpt of examples for Andrea Gibson’s poem Homesick: A Plea For Our Planet - Do you know sometimes when gathering nectar
bees fall asleep in flowers? Do you know fish
are so sensitive snowflakes sound like fireworks
when they land on the water? Do you know sea otters
hold hands when they sleep so they don’t drift apart?
Do you know whales will follow their injured friends
to shore, often taking their own lives
so to not let a loved one be alone when he dies?
Ants, ants, ants!!!
"Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise! It has no commander, no overseer or ruler, yet it stores its provisions in summer and gathers its food at harvest".
Proverbs 6:6-9
I love the birds. "Yea, the sparrow hath found her an house." "Not one sparrow is forgotten." "They neither toil nor...." But these days, my mantra, and it came quite unbidden, is "Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all." Hope, not as a naive optimism, but as a resident of the soul.