The Fertility of the Empty Space
June 25, 2023
Hello friends! Just a quick note to let you all know I’ve decided to lower the annual subscription for my newsletter back to $36. It’s simply more fun to send out the posts each week to more people and it seems like more folks subscribe at that rate. Always learning!
The following was inspired by the field next to our subdivision that was razed to the ground in early spring for development. As luck would have it, they have not been able to proceed (yet) with the development and as I approached that field near sunrise this week I was moved by what I found.
They cut it all down, not a tree left in place; every last plant mowed to the ground. In the emptiness, Meadow cried out to her friends. She called to the birds to bring seeds of wildflowers. She called to the clouds to pour out their tears on her. She called to the sun for the fire of life, inspiring her to grow again. Her friends covered her with beauty, nourished every crack and crevice of her broken heart. She laid still. Seeds sprouted in her soil. Roots grow deep within. Patiently she waited, holding the tension of the empty space.
Soon - impossibly soon - only a few months after the destruction there she was, covered in clover, thistles, chamomile, chickory, and queen Anne’s lace. Huge patches of milkweed stood now, taller than the men who cut it down. There she was, bursting with life. Her friends came again and she gave back the sustenance they had shared. Bees flitted among the wildflowers. Goldfinches ate of the plentiful thistle. Butterflies and hummingbirds drank from the milkweed. Kingbirds and swallows captured bugs above her in the air. Indigo buntings sang loud and long, echoing all across the field. There she was, reborn. Different, but not dead. Healing others with her fertile soil. Inspiring other with her resilience. There she was, very much alive attesting to the fertility of the empty space.
I’d like to give a nod to my wonderful Friday sangha for the title of today’s post. I had the poem written except for the title and the ending and our sangha’s rich discussion provided both. What a blessing it is to walk the path of life with kind, open-hearted people.
I thought by this time the photography would have slowed down, but until this weekend we’ve stayed fairly cool and I’ve been blessed with longer morning walks than usual this time of year. The heat is arriving now, as it always does eventually, so we will see.
Meanwhile, the daily treasures have been amazing! In a field on the other end of the neighborhood that was also razed to the ground this winter, they have built roads and are marking in lots for new homes. That area is dirt - but the weeds have gloriously filled themselves in there as well. There are birds that like that kind of habitat so I walked up there to see what I could find.
First, I found lark sparrows and horned larks! These are two birds I never see in my park habitats, or really anywhere except these big empty lots. In 2020 I found them in the lots that have since become a subdivision as well. I will have to continue walking up there to see if I can find fledglings. I know there were some horned lark youngsters that scurried out of my view, but the way the males are chasing the females about, I’m thinking there might be a second brood eventually.
I kept hearing a loud sound almost like a buzzer. I was sure it was close but I couldn’t find a bird anywhere. Finally I opened the Merlin Sound Id app and it quickly told me what it was - so I looked up and there over my head was a common nighthawk! I don’t think I’ve ever heard one so loud before. Perhaps there was a young one somewhere near me, but if so I could not see it even on the sparse landscape.
As I was coming back down the hill towards home, I was hearing another sound. It sounded much like the indigo buntings and horned larks that were around, but just a little different. I opened the Merlin Sound Id app again, honestly thinking it would tell me it was one of the birds I had already seen. However, Merlin kept insisting it was a blue grosbeak. I hadn’t even heard of a blue grosbeak, I certainly didn’t think it was a bird I would find in my area, but Merlin was insistent so I started looking around. Sure enough and to my amazement, I found a blue grosbeak!
I couldn’t get very close but he was nice enough to fly across in front of me. Looking at this gorgeous bird, I wonder now if I’ve seen them before and just thought they were indigo buntings or if they really are just unusual to see? They are both small and very blue, and to my knowledge the only birds that blue that live around here. For comparison, here’s the grosbeak side by side with the indigo bunting:
The times I find it hardest to trust in life are when I find myself in an “empty space”. The times I need to be patient. The times I need to sit still. The times I need to keep myself from reaching for what is already gone or rushing forth to what I hope will be. This week nature has given me a lot of inspiration to remember just how fertile those empty spaces are and how much beauty can arise from going through them.
Take good care friends, and tell me about the treasures in your world!
Oh, Karen ... Karen .... this so so lovely. The poem is exquisite (..."taller than the men who cut it down"... yes!) and the bird photos, in your usual fashion, so heart-stirring. Thank you for such an uplifting post.
Wonderful poem, photos and reflection. It reminded my of something someone said to me years ago (can't remember who!) - that patience is a matter of trust. If we trust (life, ourselves, others, or that which is larger) patience is accessible; if we find ourselves impatient, the questions become- Where am I distrustful? and Is there a way to trust so I may rest/wait/live in patience? Sounds good, but I must admit, some days trust and patience are hard to find. :)