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There’s a bird singing across the sunglistened crispy snow… sounds a bit like spring, but we know that’s quite far off in these parts. Perhaps it’s not a spring bird, but she sure sounds the call. No matter that it was almost 70 degrees the other day. 

It’s so strange, actually alarming they say… this winter warmth as the climate changes. 

But I remember the winter thaws on the playground. Sometimes for a week or so. 

Yet everything is different now…

Focus redirected from the playground to the truth of the work ahead. 

This, beginning of a new Gregorian decade, is a bit like spring if you see it that way… 

Traversing the crest of the spring of the first days of the first solar return of the second half of my life, there is so much to see and more to be.

To be…

In relationship with. 

As our presence is called to the edges of the earth, what we know, of our comfort zones—so are we called to the very moment we are in. 

What dances, or crashes, in and out of our perception is blessed by the emptiness of the opportunity within our perception and relationship to it. 

And we choose so much more of what we see than we even recognize…

How am I looking into the next circle around the sun that begins with every moment? 

What do I see? 

That will depend on each moments I choose I suppose…

For now I will listen to the bird across the yard and if I choose otherwise, the highway half a mile behind it. 

And spring behind that… 

Right now I’d rather listen to the bird sing and the sound of a little girl on the other side of the window exploring weather to dance or to crash into the next moment.

I remember being that little girl, so often crashing in with my desire for softness…

So many of us looking for the softness and pretending to be strong. Not feeling like pretending much  I never did…

It’s my Dad’s Birthday today, he would have been 79. 

I could spend some time missing him, or listen for him on that birdsong…

I’ll choose the Latter.

Happy Birthday Dad… 

 

One thought on “On the Birdsong…

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