Staying Present
May 12, 2024
Miles and miles of walking, grateful the mornings are still cool and wishing I could stay out later as things warm up. I’ve seen very few shorebirds or migrating warblers. I feel my mind running to what is not, what is missing, what I might be missing. I take a deep breath and ask myself to stay present with what is.
Chimney swifts swirl over my head and a small group of northern rough-winged swallows rest on nearby branches. Titmice, cardinals, and orioles are singing in the trees.
I walk down to one of my favorite locations to find they have put up a new fence, with a lock. In another area the lock I usually can access has been changed. I feel a sense of loss. My mind starts to spin on what this might mean, what else might be taken away. I take a deep breath and ask myself to stay present with what is.
A yellow warbler flits among the branches and I try to remain patient enough to catch him when he finally pops up into the light. An orchard oriole appears on a nearby branch and then almost as quickly flies away across the cove.
Some mornings I feel energized and optimistic. I see birds everywhere and I find myself rushing from one bird to another, from one place to another, from one idea to another. I take a deep breath and ask myself to stay present with what is right in front of me.
Two indigo buntings are chasing each other in what appears to be a territorial dispute. They’ve been doing this for three days in this spot, so I assume it’s the same two buntings. Will they sort it out and decide to peacefully coexist? Will one eventually give up? Either way, it’s a blessing for the photographer because their focus on each other means they are paying no attention to me.
A coyote darts across the trail, the third coyote I’ve seen in two days. Looking closely at this one through my camera, I’d guess she is currently nursing young ones. She probably has to be bolder during the daytime to feed her family.
There are other mothers (and fathers) about now too, trying to provide for their young. Mama killdeer was yelling at me and I didn’t know why until I saw this tiny little baby scurry up and into the grass.
Mama goose and mama duck are also taking care of youngsters, with the help of their mates. I watched both males run off would be intruders while the mothers kept their youngsters corralled.
On Mother’s Day weekend, I am missing my mother and grandmothers. It doesn’t matter how old I get or how long they are gone, a part of me still wants to curl up in those arms again. To be loved by them, in their perfectly imperfect ways. I take a deep breath and thank them for all they’ve done for me. I feel their absence. I feel their presence too.
A tiny frog jumps across the path in front of me. This frog was no more than an inch in size yet he jumped three feet in the air. I’d never have seen him if I hadn’t seen where he landed.
The little frog brings me back to what’s in front of me. I hold the feelings of loss and let the songs of the birds - and sometimes the screeches - fall on them like a healing balm. I take a deep breath and focus on what is here. The feelings are here, but so are the birds and the trees and the water.
The blue herons out in the creek are vying for the best fishing spots. Their young are likely about to leave the nest and feeding huge babies takes a lot of food. They must have a rookery nearby because I’ve counted as many as nine adult herons in this little spot at one time.
This week I watched a calm sunrise. This week I got caught in a storm. This week I listened to orioles sing. This week I watched swallows swirl. This week I felt the sadness of loss and goodbyes. This week I felt the love that surrounds me. This week I did life the best way I know how. This week it was enough.
There is one rare bird you don’t usually see in front of the camera - me! My friend and movement teacher Barbara Anderson of Body & Soul KC did a short interview with me about this practice I have of walking in nature and sharing it with the world. Barbara is a gifted movement teacher, specializing in helping adults over 55 learn to move better in their bodies. She has helped me learn to soften and move with more awareness, especially where I have long-standing movement patterns that were not good for my body. I often hear her voice saying, “how can this be easier?”
I highly recommend Barbara’s classes and her individual coaching! I’ve worked with her remotely for the last four years and am always amazed what she can see even at a distance.
Karen, this was beautiful! Reading it was like a meditation. Thank you for the much-needed reminder to stay present on what is, not what is missing.
Happy Mother's Day, Karen. I have been feeling anything but present or centered lately, and today's offering reminded me of the value in just being. Your whole newsletter is an exercise in being present and "softening" as you so perfectly describe it in the video interview. Your movement coach hit it on the head: this newsletter is very dear. Thank you for sharing both your beautiful photos and the reminder to slow down and allow nature to wash over you. It's so healing.