Your backyard is trying to tell you something.
Summer lessons from my backyard to yours.
A baby bird? Or a nudge?
The other day, as I sat working on my back porch, I felt a whoosh across my face, followed by a clatter on the door beside me. Confused, I scanned the porch for the source of this commotion, only to find a tiny brown bird clinging to the window frame. She fluttered over to the wall sconce, her tiny feet grasping onto whatever she could find.
To my left, louder, insistent chirping brought my attention to another small, brown bird on the ground near the bird feeder. I couldn’t tell if she scolded or encouraged, but the message was clear: “Get off of there!”
“Ah!” Mama bird teaching her baby to fly. Mama (or Dad, not sure) chirped again and flew graceful and low over the lawn towards our young Japanese Maple. Baby bird pushed off and fluttered akimbo behind her, her wings working hard.
Did this baby bird randomly fly into me? Or, was I receiving a nudge from spirit to pay attention? I decided on the latter and got up from my seat and followed Mama Bird.
The baby sparrows got it, but I didn't.
From a distance, I saw her, under our red Japanese Maple, with her three babies lined up in front of her, a lesson in progress. After a few moments, she flew to the crowded bird feeder, her babies following. She landed easily. One baby overshot the bird feeder entirely (maybe my new friend) and crashed into a tree beyond the feeder, another landed upside down on the mesh, and one grabbed onto the outer ring, and swung upside down. The other sparrows did not approve and pushed her off. She fluttered, and I lost track of them in the activity of all the other birds.
But then, I looked back to where Mama had schooled them earlier, and there they were! They had returned to their spot in the shade of the tree, all lined up in front of Mama Sparrow.
Again, she flew to the bird feeder with her babies following. This time all three landed, one successfully amongst her peers, one teetering and fluttering to the ground, and the other perched on the top as if that had been her goal all along.
Mama chirped and they all clumsily flew back to their lesson spot under the Japanese Maple. Lined up, they once again turned their tiny upturned faces to Mama Sparrow. They ran through the bird feeder lesson many times, each time returning to “their spot” under the tree, until Mama decided this particular lesson had run its course and they flew off over the fence.
I stared at their empty lesson spot. The baby birds, even in their clumsiness, got it, but I didn’t.
In the bird chaos of my backyard, a certain order prevailed.
Over the next few days, I saw other birds (cardinals, cat birds), with different versions of this same process. The meaning behind it all wouldn’t leave me alone. What was I supposed to get?
A few days later, I watched Mama Sparrow and her class under the Japanese Maple. As I leaned in to the lesson, the meaning came into focus. I’ve been so curious about stillness lately – it’s role, how to do it, why do it, and here are these beautiful Sparrows showing me the way.
When I really slowed it down this is what I saw: The sparrows gathered, got still, took off and tried something, returned to their meeting place, regrouped, got very still (even the babies), then tried again. In the seeming chaos of my backyard, order prevailed.
Taking a cue from Mama Sparrow.
I took a lesson from Mama Sparrow that day. Even when the world is going crazy around us, even with the chaos, the uncertainty, the differing of opinions that surround us now, we can get still, find our own order, learn our own lessons.
For me, it was refining the stillness in my own life. I know ways to get still and I practice them regularly. What this showed me was that I should do it more regularly, in smaller increments.
This is what I used to do: I started my day with getting still and then get to work – on calls, researching, working on my business. As time progressed, I’d get increasingly wound up. In this wound up state, I looked at my to-do list, whereupon my anxiety jumped in telling me I’m not getting enough done. In that state, I decided what to do next.
What if I took a cue from Mama Sparrow? What if I regrouped for even a small moment, got still, and then acted?
Small changes can lead to big changes.
This sounds so small, but it’s had a profound impact on my day. I now stop many times during the day. As soon as I feel that hurried, anxious feeling, I know it’s time to regroup, get still, then decide. If I don’t, I risk missing my mark entirely or hanging upside down or landing somewhere I don’t even want to be.
Sometimes, I sit quietly and come to rest. Sometimes, I lie down and use a stillness practice (you can find some in my Self-Care for Troubled Times kit). Sometimes I go outside and watch the New Jersey wildlife in my backyard.
Stopping for 5, 10, or 15 minutes may sound like it takes time, but it actually gives me time. I’m not wasting time spinning, doubting, “multi-tasking”. My day has become many still points, like connecting dots, and my next steps come from stillness and feel right rather than hurried. I feel on track, rather than jumping at a new idea before I’ve finished the first idea. At the end of the day, I feel like I had a good day. Those days string together to create a good week.
What's the message from your back yard?
This is a lesson from my back yard. You can borrow my lesson, or you can discover your own custom-made lesson from what draws you in your own back yard. Metaphors, especially from nature, mirror back your inner knowing and help you decipher what you most need to know.
We can be still and know. And then take action that is aligned with our truth and our deep inner knowing.
As I write this, Mama and babies are chirping away in the tree beside my office window, as if to confirm my findings. And they’re off! I’m sure they’ll be back to regroup and figure out what’s next.
