My eye keeps drifting upward. As we sit for breakfast or eat
rice and roasted veggies in the early evening, my vision slips often from my
husband’s face to the calendar hanging on the wall behind him. There, a Greater Yellowlegs walks at sunrise in the shallow
water of a Texas wildlife preserve. Weight held on one thin leg, the other reaches
gingerly forward above pink~tinged water.
As I write these words now, I realize
I’ve unwittingly transformed this speedy little bird into its distant relative,
the Great Blue Heron. It is the heron’s movements, painstakingly slow and
deliberate, that I see in my mental video. And I wonder why. Why is my eye repeatedly drawn to this
image, and why have I unconsciously attributed to it the movements of an
entirely different bird?
Opening to the flow of possible answers, a message comes
immediately, though not surprisingly. It is time once more to cultivate the full
presence of the heron. After much running around, I am being urged again toward
stillness.
I see the heron slowly draw one stick leg from the water,
pausing for a few seconds even in this simple gesture. Ever the Zen master, she
awaits the return of full concentration before completing the upward movement. She
then slowly extends her leg forward and slides it into the water, weight
shifting slightly as, with precision, she places her foot on the sandy lake
bottom.
This movement carries no angst, no rush. This humble
creature accepts, simply and without question, that it will take as long to
catch a fish as it will take to catch a fish. She does not cram activity into
every waiting space. No, this heron wades through water, crisp air, and each
moment in harmony with her surroundings. And she causes not a ripple as she goes.
I would do well to slow my own pace, to move with the
precision and care of my heron friend. Yet my movements cannot always be so
measured, given this full human life of mine. I can, though, emulate my
feathered mentor by cultivating an inner stillness, one from which all my actions
would arise. In this way, no matter how quick my movements, they will be in
harmony with a greater flow.
I have just returned from a brisk walk around the lake, one
punctuated by the bursts of faster speed so beneficial for the human heart and
soul. The heron pair who raise their young there have not yet returned from
their winter refuge. They were, though, with me in spirit, urging me to full
presence and an uncluttered awareness.
And when I sit for dinner tonight, I will let Greater
Yellowlegs remind me that, though we each must move according to our nature~~some
fast, some slow~~there is a greater Presence that holds us all.
Blessings to all my fine~feathered friends, be you speedy or slow. Namasté
Leia
