Consider The Ravens

The skies are clear this morning, baby-blue, with just a hint of amber sunlight feathered in around the edges as day breaks over the treetops.  On the way home from dropping Charlie off at school I caught myself getting lost in my own head, going over my mental list of urgent things that need my attention.  I rounded the last curve before I came close to my driveway and for some reason, looked up.  Three birds like tiny black specks were flying overhead in the chill of this autumn morning, probably in search of breakfast.  It dawned on me that birds worry about nothing really.  They know with every day and every season what their task is all about. It's surviving, living to see another Spring.  They don't care whether or not their nests are big and fancy, don't care if another bird has a better one than them.  They just live.

I suppose that could be said for all of nature, except of course for mankind.  It's really no one else's fault that we put our own lives under such scrutiny.  Instead of just enjoying what we have, we worry about what we're missing.  I wonder if sometimes, we examine life too closely.  We concern ourselves too much with what someone else might think of us; we have to dress just so, drive a car that says something about us, live in a house that is impressive to others.  And if by chance, we find ourselves among the less fortunate of society, we shame ourselves for not keeping up.  It seems like  a trap we humans set for ourselves so far back in time that no one knows when it all started.

The knot in my own stomach is becoming heavy and tiresome.  I am overwhelmed with all the "must dos" to the point of almost feeling paralyzed.  My time is never my own anymore, it belongs to work, or other people, or to the Social Security Administration.  It belongs to figuring out how to convince a hospital that they made a mistake, so I'm don't end up being penalized for their mistake.  It belongs to figuring out how to pay the bills and get a car that is driveable to wherever I need to go.

All I want to do is live.  Wouldn't it be grand if we could all just take flight in early morning sunrises, in search of food and adventure?  How awesome would it be if we could live like the birds do?

Life just isn't made as easy for us humans as it is for birds.  If we could fly, we wouldn't worry over cars.  I'm most pleased though, that my sustenance consists of more than worms and bugs or kind seeds and biscuit crumbs that little old ladies leave in the yard for me.  I suppose we make a fair trade with the fowls, in exchange for the inability to fly.  I know that worrying is often a choice I make.  I have rarely gone with an unmet need.

We humans, blessed with big ol' brains and hearts that hold a multitude of emotions are blessed in different ways.  For all the tending we must do, all the anxiety we carry with us, a deep well of  inner experience is ours for the living.  We take the joy and sorrow, the victory and defeat as we see fit.  We allow ourselves the freedom, not to fly above the clouds, but to draw from our own souls whatever feeling in which we want to indulge as life throws curveballs at us. Lately I've drawn up some heavy sorrow, deep grief, some frustration and anxiety; but I know that I can always send the bucket down again, draw up something more fulfilling.  I can sit with this bucket-full of dreary-ness today in perfect hope that in time, something better will bubble up.  A refinement of sorts, that can only be created from times of drought and despair will eventually spring up from my soul, giving me just what I need to keep facing another sunrise.

You know, I rarely reference scripture, but those three tiny birds I saw this morning made this portion pop into my head.  I share it with you here, in the spirit of our mutual humanity.  May your worries and mine be set aside, if only for today.

Luke 12:22-26

22 And He said unto His disciples, “Therefore I say unto you, take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat; neither for the body, what ye shall put on.

23 The life is more than meat, and the body is more than raiment.

24 Consider the ravens: for they neither sow nor reap, they neither have storehouse nor barn, and God feedeth them. How much more are ye better than the fowls?

25 And which of you by taking thought can add to his stature one cubit?

26 If ye then be not able to do that thing which is least, why take ye thought for the rest?