There’s nothing like staring at a folder full of photos and a blank page on Saturday afternoon not knowing what to write. Much like choosing the photos, it isn’t that I don’t have any ideas, it’s that I have too many and I can’t seem to settle in on the story that wants to be told today.
Maybe I want to tell the story of the Caspian tern who appeared as the storm moved away one morning. This light gray bird was perfectly framed against the dark clouds which only seemed to make that orange bill glow brighter.
This powerhouse of a bird, one of the few I can hear and see from all the way across the lake, came into the marina and put on a show. The largest of the terns, with a wingspan of about 50 inches, is also the loudest of the terns and one of my favorite birds.
Caspian terns can use those feathers like fine-tuned sails, circling, hovering and then diving into the water for a fish.
I had seen Caspian terns a few times this spring, but always on the other side of the lake. Many days I walked to a location I have seen them in before with no luck. Yet here was this bird, circling and diving closer than ever before requiring no effort on my part. All I had to do was watch.
The tern dove several times but it was diving right behind the dock and I couldn’t get the entry into the water in a photo. I could watch though and it felt like showing up at an empty theater and having a band play just for me.
Maybe the story that wants to be told is how I walked three miles in search of warblers, finding none. When I finally gave up and decided to go watch the cliff swallows who nest under the bridge (because that was a sure thing), I heard the most beautiful voice:
I saw a flash of yellow appear behind a nearby branch - a prothonotary warbler! I was standing on a bridge with the water and base of the trees some distance below, so the bird was nearly at eye level. That’s an unusual perspective I don’t often get to have.
I watched the little warbler flit in and out of the branches, stopping alternatively to eat tiny bugs and sing his song for about thirty minutes. I love watching the throat of birds when they are singing. Warblers, like orioles, thrushes and many other birds, use their throat to make some of the sounds.
Maybe the story that really wants to be told is how the universe keeps nudging me to let go of trying so hard. As my friend Barbara Anderson says, “how can you try easier?” This spring that story has been told day after day. I’ve walked miles and miles trying to see everything only to have birds appear when I finally give up.
I’ve been staring at my empty garden beds for a month now, knowing spring is the time to plant the perennials I envisioned when I had the shrubs cleared out last fall. Finding time during spring migration is no easy task, especially when my day job has also been exhausting.
Yesterday I went to the nursery to buy the plants. I told myself I only had time to plant a few, so I’d just buy a few and get started. The place was empty and I know weekends at the nursery are insane (parking lot overflowing, long lines insane). They had all the native plants I wanted but not in large quantities. They also had the herbs I wanted, though I told myself I surely did not have the time or energy this weekend to plant everything. Somehow I found myself coming home with all the plants.
After I got home and pulled them all out on the driveway, I realized there was no way all of that was getting done this weekend. Moreover, if I tried to do it I’m pretty sure I would have been in pain. I went inside to eat lunch feeling overwhelmed and remembered some recent advice to ask for help. When I went back outside I was still trying to figure out how I could ask for help as I was assessing what could realistically be done this weekend. Just at that moment, a young woman I’ve never seen before came walking up the sidewalk.
The young woman asked, “Doing some planting?” I said, “Yes, but I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. I have no idea how I’m going to get this done.” She said, “Do you want some help?” I said, “are you serious - yes!”
As it turned out, this young woman runs a side hustle doing small garden projects. She gave me a price to plant the garden beds and said she’d be back at or before five o’clock. By the time I finished planting the herbs in pots for my deck, she had returned. She completed the entire job and told me she’d be back in a week to check on the plants. She instructed me to water them every morning. All of my planting was done without exhausting myself. She was happy because there was a dress she wanted to buy and she had just earned the money to buy it. Win-win!
Just as I finished, a tiny eastern-tailed blue butterfly landed on one of the herb pots. A tiny butterfly seems like the perfect symbol for “try easier”. Everything a butterfly does appears to be effortless, yet everything they need to do gets done.
How did this little butterfly know I had just planted a garden full of pollinator-friendly native plants when earlier that day it was bare earth? Perhaps in the same way I somehow made it to the end of this post with a cohesive story and a title I didn’t know would appear when I started? I think most writers know we write what we need to hear. I needed to hear “try easier” again. I needed to see it as the catch phrase for the experience spring has brought. I needed to remember what I had forgotten. Again.
How might the phrase “try easier” resonate in your week?
"Try easier" sounds very much like the Taoist concept of wu wei, or "effortless action." Wu Wei surrenders to the flow of nature and the universe, understanding that events unfold as they should, without the need for an agenda. It's a beautiful, peaceful state of being!
What an utterly delightful and marvelous story and lesson from the Universe! I love it! I tend to be what my mother called "a pusher and a driver," particularly under stress. (To be fair, it's genetic! The apple didn't fall far from the tree) ;-) Mother had a friend, an accomplished pilot from the days when you flew more by instinct and intuition than computer models and prompts. Anyway, he knew my mother's own propensity to push/drive, albeit with the best of intentions. He told her, "Jeanne, life is like flying. It's important to be observant of what's happening and responsive. But don't try to over-control. When you're pushing too hard, you're over-controlling. And gets you nowhere, and can become even dangerous. Easy up on the throttle!" So, thank you for reminding me of these words of wisdom from my mother's friend that she often would pass on to me. Less hammer; more butterfly. :-) P.S. Another story you will appreciate as a golfer: When Mother took golf lessons, her teacher said, "Jeanne, it's golf! You're not chopping wood!" :-) Have a happy day "trying easier," my friend.