Visitor (II)

There was a sharp north wind along the trail into the deep woods, and every feeder was oscillating back and forth like a pendulum, at times almost parallel to the snow covered ground.

For all the wind, the attendees at the breakfast banquet were a throng, and they were loud in their thanks for the food. At one point there were nine chickadees sitting right on my hood, and they sang as tanagers sing at the height of summer.

Such moments are "ah ha" moments, and if we are fortunate and receptive, they sometimes gift us with a gladness, a clarity and a fleeting wisdom sorely lacking at other times and in other aspects of our mundane lives. On that snowy trail, the birds sang their thanks, and I offered them a deep and creaking gassho for their song, for allowing me to feed them in the depths of winter.

Out of this suchness, there arises a deeper sense of connection to the Old Wild Mother (Earth) and all her creatures. The connection and "rootedness" is always there, but I am forever forgetting it, and I need a reminder now and then.