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Birdsong

Early morning and at dusk I am especially charmed by birdsong. Sometimes on the way home from work, slowed by traffic on the two-lane road leading into town, I hear a riotous bird choir in a tree or their lilting calls over a vineyard. It always has the same affect on me –I am momentarily engulfed by gratitude.

Impulsively, I say “thank you” out loud to God, to the Universe, to the More that exists beyond earthquakes, tornadoes, global warming or any of the tragedies that plague humanity that are caused by (or helped along by) humanity.

Simple birdsong for me is magical, carrying in its resonant diversity tones of hope, verve, pure enjoyment. Throughout my early years birds were like little linchpins holding my shattered world together in spontaneous mosaic. When I heard them sing I was transported beyond trouble to knowing that being alive was an inestimable gift, that my story was unfinished, that for me beauty would prevail.

It was like their chirps and warbles were saying,

Look beyond what you perceived to what your eyes miss.

Life can be dangerous and at the same time sublime.

Cherish BEING. Live, live, live!

Perhaps a bird’s eye view of the world looks like this:

Tree Maiden

Swinging Monkey

Mice Staircase

Could you help but sing if you sat in one of these . . .

. . . or lived there!

For me, birdsong is excelsior every day of the year!