Hidden Places

One of the enduring rituals each spring is the arrival of migratory birds. We get so caught up in the current events of modern life and what is happening on the other side of the world, we often overlook the natural events of the world outside our own door. Right now after having spent winter with the stoic woodpeckers and hardy crows, wrens and titmice, the treetops are filling with bluebirds and cuckoos, goldfinches and colorful warblers.  Their return triggered by the length of the days, is also exquisitely timed to the emergence of whatever food source they need to have on hand when they get here.  All that golden rain of pollen and swollen seed cases that gives us weeping eyes and sinuses are emerging on schedule to feed the flocks of birds and insects and young mammals that have arrived on the scene.  The highlight so far of this season has been the discovery of a wood duck nest and a brief glimpse of  them  flapping up off the lake and into the tree cavity where they have made their home.  It gives new meaning to 'a duck out of water'.  When the babies hatch, they will plop down the 30 feet or so and instinctively take off for the water.  I would so love to witness that moment but it is the way of survival in the Real World that when her creatures are the most vulnerable, they instinctively do all they can to remain concealed.  They remain hidden and quiet.

We also have times when we need to remain hidden and quiet--especially when we feel  tender and vulnerable.  Despite the many blessings of modern technology, its shadow side has been an erosion of understanding the human need for concealment. Sharing our joys and sorrows with those we trust can be affirming and supportive, but when we constantly do, we rob ourselves of the nourishment found by withdrawing to be with ourselves. Respect for the value of emotional privacy --time alone to ruminate and ponder our insides and personal challenges without intrusion, is the foundation of emotional health. Our souls need to mull and ponder and work on our internal and external order without fear of untimely exposure. It creates a place for the beautiful and fragile parts of ourselves to feel safe until they  are healed or feel strong enough to emerge. Then, it may be like the moment in the dusky dark when I witnessed the wood duck hen slipping in her roost: it took my breath away.  Wonderful things happen in secret places.

When I re-enter, alone, the city's crush
and its chaos of noise
and the fury of traffic surrounds me,
may I above that hammering confusion,
remember the sky and the mountain slopes
where the herds are still descending homeward.
                         Rilke, Uncollected Poems