11 Visitors
he came because of depression
‘coming in cycles it has come again
I am worthless, I fear for the morrow’
we talked but were getting nowhere
so we sat and listened to silence
the silence of the world around
the birds being birds, the squirrels,
the clouds passing by overhead
we sat for an hour and then for another
a third went by in this way
sitting still, learning to listen
free from fear for a while
‘Thank you, I will come again.’
In meditation one morning: within my field of vision at one time there were kingfishers, drongos, woodpeckers, crows, babblers, and magpie-robins. None of the birds fear to come here, and as I sit with great quiet internally as well as externally they know they are safe. As I spent time in this wonderland I was pondering why although a lot of bird or animal activity is what we think of as aggressive, there is such great peace and equanimity when we watch the natural world, and it occurred to me that we watch with a spirit of observation, not judgement. We have no expectation that birds or animals should behave differently, and so there is no conflict. Conflict arises out of wanting things to be other than they are, not accepting a reality which is not always pleasant, and therefore always wanting to be someone else, somewhere else. Perhaps in learning to observe the outer reality without judgement, we can come to observe the inner reality in a similar manner.
each morning I sit watching clouds float by
glorious cream fronting heavy dark grey
or maybe wisps of clouds making their way
from west to east as they cross the sky
the movement of the heavens so clear to the eye
a sign of reality and the unchanging hand
but no one looks up as they cross the land
all caught up in themselves as life goes by
I usually spend one period a day in walking meditation, mostly in the evening. But last night I decided to remain seated under a newly acquired mosquito net. This morning, five nights after the full moon, I was tempted to don my sandals and see in the dawn. Anything very familiar seen under a new aspect is always something of a revelation, and so it was this morning. It was beautiful to see the garden becoming clear as the sun rose, with the birds arriving for breakfast: coucals and crows, mynahs and drongos, the latter an elegant bird, supremely agile as it picks insects from the air. At one time the drongo was joined on its wire perch by another bird with quite a reputation – the kingfisher. But whereas the kingfisher is garish in his blue, brown, and white, the drongo is much more reserved in his well dressed black and grey. The pair sat there for a while, the one master of the waters, the other master of the air. Next to show were the red-backed woodpeckers, screeching once more as they chased through the trees; and the inconspicuous grey tits who went quietly about their business.
Then a great row broke out in the havarinuga tree – we have three of these trees, and for some reason one has only reached half its normal height, and its stunted top provides an excellent place to build a nest. I thought at first that the crow was the cause of the disturbance – they often go and cause trouble at the nests of the smaller birds, and there was one in the tree, but he wasn’t receiving much attention. I could just make out in the twilight two families of babblers, earning their name most aggressively this morning, who were the cause of the rumpus. When they’re excited babblers have a way of ruffling their feathers up and partly spreading their wings, which makes them look bigger, and when they get going they can sound bigger also. The argument sometimes reaches a crescendo of demonstration, with the occasional outbreak of real physical violence, as one of the younger birds was knocked out of the tree, or as one fellow was chased from branch to branch by his outraged brethren. Following the breeding season we now have three families of babblers in the immediate vicinity. I disturbed a nest one time while trimming the glyricidia trees that border the land here, after that I had lost track of where they were. It now looks like two of these families – as well as a family of magpie-robins – are nesting at the top of the havarinuga tree, where there is little room, and perhaps problems over territorial rights. For a full forty minutes the arguments continued back and forth, until they became intermittent, and finally stopped altogether. The stillness of the night broken by the troubles of the day.
she came as she promised she would
she came and she brought the rain
like so many teardrops as a backdrop
to a life of sorrow and pain
I would like to share the silence
but for days we talked of the hurt
hurt by the surgeon, by friends, by life,
so much difficulty along the way
‘I now realise I haven’t been healed
the intention is clear, but how to allow
that forgiveness to blossom?’ Later:
‘I’ve learned so much while here.’
and then came the time for leaving
the rain falling heavy by now
a call, we meet, and embrace:
‘I feel I can love once more.’