The hummingbird migration is in full swing in Texas, but in our own yard, it is more akin to an invasion. They race from flower to flower and feeder to feeder throughout the day as they weave in and out of the trees like water rushing through stones. Their high pitch squabbles can be heard from every direction of the yard. We catch them hovering in front of our windows and look for their return whenever they dart away leaving only a hint of their frenetic magic in their wake.
The migration goes by in a flash, and I can’t resist taking a short break in the evening to photograph these breath-taking beauties from my bedroom window. To my endless amusement, the birds seem equally intrigued with me. They readily park themselves inches away from the glass and observe me in return as they pose happily for the camera. Maybe they sense our shared delirious approach to life, or perhaps they, too, just want to quiet the noise for a few brief moments. It is also highly likely that they are contemplating pulling a Hitchcock move with me if I continue to refuse to buy more feeders. I may never know, but I prefer the idea of their finding an affinity with a kindred wild spirit.
Even if these little birds don’t recognize our similarities, the parallels are striking to me. Racing madly from task to task only to realize that the activity list never appears to get any shorter. Getting my feathers ruffled unnecessarily by those around me who happen to invade my space. Perpetually finding myself in search of more sugar. Clearly these birds and I have been taking notes from the same Questionable Life Choices manual.
Although I see much of myself mirrored in these avian maniacs, we do appear to have a few notable differences. For example I am doubtful that they frequently catch themselves working until 2, 3 or 4 in the morning to get the job done. I, on the other hand, have been in that position multiple times this week alone. With that said it only feels fair for me to disclose that I have yet to use my arms to fly hundreds of miles across country on multiple occasions throughout this year, so the birds appear to have bested me in the extreme modes of travel category. We also diverge in the whole “bird” / “human” distinction, but clearly the working hours and arm flap vs. plane mode of travel are the key disparities.
But differences aside, I still see so much of myself mirrored in their madness. Their uniqueness. Their ferocity. I can’t help but smile when I see them in action, but there is also something indescribably calming about watching them at rest. It’s just so unexpected and their beauty truly shines when they reflect that momentary stillness.
Sitting for a moment. Taking a few breaths. Finding the calm inside the chaos. And when it’s time again, diving into the hustle of life again.
Perhaps that’s the real lesson they are sharing and that’s the moment I should seek to mirror. I imagine that we could all use a little more of that in our lives.
Take a moment and take a breath. Find the quiet in the noise. And when you are truly ready, spread those wings once more.
Love and light always. Joanna
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Momentum of Joy 