The thrush song softens these days. The crickets' beat reverberate in the air, the movement of the sun lowers in the sky, and red tips paint the edges of Maple trees.
The sound of quiet in the forest is loud, as some of the flying friends have moved south, taking their sweet songs with them. Others friends prepare for the same. Soon silence will fall at twilight. I know from other years that this moment of missing and sadness is transient. But sometimes the ache feels very deep. We in the forest simply rejoice in the sweetness of their songs.
I listen to help me transition with the change of sound, the change of light, and the change of air... Soon, we, the forest and I, will indeed marvel at other wonders. Soon, the longer nights will turn our eyes and ears inward, to tend to our own inner songs. Until then, I intend to honor this time of transition in any way I can.
Often I linger longer in evenings to listen to the night sounds when the day turns to dusk. I notice the changing tides of the sky as seen in the colors of the dawn and dusk. I notice the changing quality of light. I notice the birds that linger in the gardens. I notice the flurry of bees catching up on their day's harvest.
During this transition, I made a discovery. For those who remember an earlier post on the hummingbird families, ( Reverence of Nectar) this is an update.
In the deluges of last summer, I wondered if the decrease of sun and increase of rain, affected the sugar content in the flowers, and if some change there resulted in the hummingbirds' increase of aggression. During that time their squeaks became higher pitched. The whirrings more frightening. Their posturing against all visitors more threatening.
Out of curiosity, I decided to try an experiment after a rain storm last week ~ I added a random amount of extra raw sugar to the feeders. Sugar straight from my cupboard into their cup. An ingredient that I might have used to add sweetness to my dessert, or someone may have chosen to add to their morning tea. And sure enough, the extra sugar seems to have done the trick. The small birds return to deeper calmness ~ they spend more time drinking in the delights and less time fighting with their neighbors. A little extra sweetness seems to have gone a long way to restoring the peace and calm of the garden. The experiment appears to be helping the garden individuals co-mingle and thrive.
More pleasure and peace. Less arguments and belligerence. All in all, more satisfying.
If only we all could find such an equally simple medicine.
If a little bit of sweetness goes a long way to creating a peaceful community among the fauna here, what might that heart medicine be for us humans? How might I increase the sweetness in my life and community? How might a little metaphorical sugar help to smooth over the stress during times of transition?
Maybe just knowing that it can be simple. Simple as breathing in the nectar present on our plate of life. Breathing into the the heart allowing heart medicine to thrive and sing. Maybe all it takes is believing and then breathing that in.
When these birds also rise to fly to their southern homes, I will watch them in my heart, wish them good health and safe travels. I will look up in expectation and delight to hear their song when they return come Spring. Until then, I will fill my heart with sweetness, light, song and breath.
"Deep night, Day light
Round we go again....
Follow your heart and you can't go wrong.
Trust your voice, Sing you song, Find your light and let it out."
~ Autumn Skye and Ryan Herr
