Over the summer I bought a little bird bath and feeder for the communal garden to the side of my block of flats. It has been great fun watching the birds from my bedroom window as they scooshed about in the water and tucked into the nuts and pellets that I set out for them to eat. They were such voracious wee things that, some days, I had to fill the bath and the feeder twice. It cost me a small fortune!!
Now that we are into November much of that activity has died down. The water in the little bath sometimes freezes and the feeder, more often than not, remains full of food. And that’s because there are only a few stray finches, sparrows and blackbirds left. The large flocks that gathered in the garden over the summer have flown farther south now. I am mesmerised by the change. I’ve never noticed it quite so much in all my life.
Living in a heightened awareness of the natural world here in beautiful Lanark, it’s often my spirit that recognizes these transitions first. I sense them. I celebrate them. I live into them. So, this late Autumn morning, as I sit writing this, is my time to ponder, to reflect, and, once more, to be filled with wonder, to be grateful for what was, to wait patiently in anticipation of the joy that is yet to come.
But just for a moment, on this particular morning, I will also notice the loss that I feel and be very still. I will stop for a while and join my heart to other hearts who grieve this day for losses of their own; losses both great and small, seen and unseen, public or private. And in that divine joining of being, I acknowledge the single Consciousness of which you are, and I am, and all of creation is, a part. And just perhaps, in the great Mysterium Tremendum, such pure heart intention may heal each
of us, all of us, even the world, a little more.
May it be so.
Gerry Creaney
