The Briar Philosopher - A Flight of Blackbirds (Free Access - Not Paywalled)

Every now and then, over the years, I have found myself witness to something remarkable that has both surprised and astonished me. Two of those things stand out in my mind. The first was about fifty years ago. I would have been ten years old at the time, or thereabouts. The family had all gone to Turkey Foot one hot day in late June or early July. The water, cold as it was, felt good against the heat of the day. My sister Melissa and I had waded out into a fork off of the main stream and were just playing and splashing about when an entire migration of Monarch butterflies literally landed on us. They just descended from the sky in great numbers, like a bright multicolored cloud coming down to earth. They were everywhere; on every flower and stone, up and down every shore of the creek, on our heads and arms and shoulders. It was as though all the flowers of heaven had come down to visit us two little girls. I gasped with wonder and astonishment then held my breath so as not to frighten away the 10 or more butterflies that were sitting on me. I just stood there and slowly stretched out my arms so that more butterflies would fit. In those moments I felt so incredibly blessed, not just to bear witness to such an event but to find myself a part of it. I felt as though my whole body was vibrating with electricity in unison with the bright orange wings of Monarchs. I was completely grounded in the experience. There was no room in my mind for anything else. I had no thought of past or future. There was only the present moment and what a moment it was! I felt myself, within that short amount of time, to be completely connected to the natural world around me. I felt the water of the creek in my blood, the stones in my bones, the wind in my lungs. I  knew myself to be a child of earth in no uncertain terms. 

The same feeling came to me last Thursday afternoon as I found myself completely rooted in another amazing experience. The title of this writing may give you a clue. I had walked over to our kitchen window, checking to see what birds might be visiting.  We keep a couple of birdfeeders within view of the window. To my surprise, I saw at least 30 shiny blackbirds dining on the seeds in the feeders and those scattered on the ground. It was hard to tell what kind of blackbirds they were though I suspected, given the time of the year, that they were young male redwings. Just as that thought entered my mind they all rose in unison and the bright red in their wings flashed in the sun. It was breathtaking in its beauty and again I gasped at the wonder of it. Such a sight, so close that if I could have reached through the window I could have touched one of them as they rose. Again, I felt the completeness of my connection to the earth and knew myself again to be her child. I was so grateful for the experience, thinking to myself, “well, that was another once in a lifetime sight.” But it wasn’t. I remembered that I had some stale cornbread left over and took it outside to crumble on the ground between the feeders just in case they returned. I went about my chores as usual but with a new sense of lightness in my step. Returning to the window some time later I didn’t really expect a return of the Redwings but there they were, feasting on the cornbread crumbs. Again, something caused them all to rise and fly at the same time and I was gifted, twice in one day, with an astonishing gift of the dance of color in their wings. I still feel lighter and more a part of the earth than usual, although that feeling has never completely left me throughout my life. 

I know that many people only feel a sense of the sacred in places like church or while praying and rarely connect the sacred to something as seemingly mundane as butterflies and blackbirds. But for me, I have always felt that such things are sacred as they are part of creation as I am part of creation. Mountains, waterfalls, rivers, sunsets, the ocean, warm breeze, the feel of sunlight on my winter-weary skin, ancient oaks, the first violets of spring; all of these things remind me of the vastness and wonder of this planet, this galaxy, this universe and all of those things, for me, reflect the sacredness of existence. 

I think perhaps we limit our sense of awe and wonder too much, confining it to things of man and ignoring the rest of creation or worse, seeking to consume and profit from the very trees that help us breathe and the very water that makes up more than 60% of our bodies. We have a bit of tunnel vision when it comes to the things we respect and acknowledge as sacred, though the very molecules of our beings are so intricate and so complex that we should stand astounded even by our own bodies and minds. 

I know I’m not alone. Though many of you may not have thought of your experiences as sacred, you have undoubtedly experienced such wonders that you gasped in astonishment. Maybe a rainbow, a sunset over the ocean, a particularly beautiful thunderstorm, or the first blooming of a lilac bush; maybe something of the sort rooted you in the present and reminded you of your origin as a child of creation. For me,  just the coming of Spring and the magic of a seed is enough to do it. Today I purchased onion sets from the Jackson County Farm store. (They have seed potatoes too if you need them.) I will plant a row of onions later this week and when the first green tops clear the ground I will be once again astonished by life and growth and the miracles this earth hands us every day. Such miracles are to be found all around us and all they cost is the moments it takes up to pay attention.