September 5, 2011
Winged Ones by JoAnne Dodgson
The beginnings of summer have been filled with songs of new life coming from a nest outside my window.
It all began with the ingenious nest-building by the elder birds who chose to roost on top of a ceiling fan on the porch. Inside the bowl made with clay and dried grasses, tiny eggs were discretely laid and attentively protected by the warm presence of the parents’ bodies.
The period of quiet, steady holding eventually erupted into a flurry of motion. As the baby birds found their way out of the eggs, the parents began a ceaseless dance flying back and forth from nest to open lands, from sunrise to sunset day after day, gathering up food for the little ones. Such a bold and unwavering commitment, this tenacious feeding of growth and new life.
At first I could only hear the little ones’ high-pitched peeps, a sweet welcoming of the nourishment coming their way. Then I could see wide-open yellow beaks calling out to the mama as she came home with a buggy feast. The chirping became louder and more insistent as the little ones grew. Soon the baby birds stretched their bodies above the rim of the nest, reaching out for morsels of food with every cell of their being, an exuberant chorus of songs celebrating each essential bite. Such wide-open receiving of the gift-giving. An unyielding passion to flourish and thrive.
It was extraordinary to witness the baby birds’ first flights. This momentous occasion organically unfolded over a series of days as the babies began looking much too big for their nest. Their fluffy feathery bodies overflowed the bounds of clay and dried grasses which once upon a time hid them away inside. Four pairs of curious eyes attentively focused on any movement near their roost. The little birds fluttered their wings wildly, clambering around on each other. Eagerly singing and chattering away for more food, the baby birds stood on top of and tumbled over the edges of the nest. The once tightly woven nest started falling apart.
Hopping out on the wooden blades of the ceiling fan, the little birds explored the expanding world at their feet. When a gentle breeze blew, the babies went along for a unexpected merry-go-round ride as they bravely stood on the end of the fan blade and orbited around their nest. Then one by one, in a celebratory no-turning-back life-changing moment, the little birds spread their wings and took flight.
This beautiful emergence of life has been joined by blazing wildfires nearby. Our skies are darkened with heavy smoke and falling ash. There is much fear in the air – the disruptions and uncertainties in the lives of displaced people, the risks to homes and sacred land and lives, the unknowns about how long the flames will burn and what it will take to put them out.
What has the fire come to teach us? This is what I asked the Fire Spirits in ceremony. 
“Your fears,” said the Spirits, “are far more destructive than the wildfires. Fear of change. Of death. Of the natural cycles of life. Of your own truths and vast beauty and power.”
“The fears carried inside people drown out their aliveness, silencing joy, creativity and love, all the while fueling anger and stress and justifying judgments, addictions and war.”
“Extinguish the fears,” said the Fire. “You’ll discover worlds of possibilities you haven’t even dared dream of before.”
“What is it like living in a world without fear?” I wondered.
“Pure Freedom!” blazed the Fire. “Just ask the little birds.”
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Susun Weed interviews Shay Williams-Garrett. Shay Williams-Garrett is a writer, speaker and relationship coach who is passionate about helping to empower women of all ages to not settle for less than the love experience they deserve. Listen Here |
