Now and again – I’ll mention that I’ve got a blog. Like for instance, the other day at the 4th of July Pig Roast I heard myself saying, “Well, I do write a blog.”
Typically such utterance is followed by the polite question, “What’s it about?”
Ummm. Depending on my mood or the day’s heat, I’ll answer, “This.” Or, “That.”
Today. I’ve been thinking. Since I’ve been writing The Carrot Seed. Since October. I’ve come to see.
Literally. I’ve come to see.
The act of blogging has encouraged me to open my mind to what is. Rather than, before blogging, I worked hard to see only what I wanted to see. And to react to such.
More often than not. The results were disastrous.
To be able to see, you need to quietly explore your thoughts and emotions and motivations. And be truthful.
To act from a place of truth is to act with courage and compassion. Even when you don’t want to. Even when you don’t want to know the truth.
I’ve been enjoying the variety of fledgling birds in the neighborhood. It’s been heartwarming and heartbreaking to watch them flying crooked, learning their trade. To see their rumpled downy feathers and to know how vulnerable they are.
On Monday I spotted this little house finch drinking out of the pond. He didn’t seem completely ready to be out of his nest, hopping around, not too steady on his feet. After awhile, he fluttered up to perch on a limb and almost teetered off.
Poor little guy. I so wanted to pick him up and to comfort him. But I didn’t, knowing that could easily bring him more harm than good. And to be truthful, wasn’t I really only thinking about comforting myself?
Was it the certainty that I was after? To know I couldn’t save him, but at least be there when he died?
A few days have gone by and I haven’t seen him. I don’t think he made it. He seemed in such bad shape.
But I understand now. It wasn’t my place to help him. I couldn’t help him. So I let him be.
Even though I found it heartbreaking.