Some say aubades are the morning songs of parting lovers. What do most of us know about our connection to birds? By me, not far from the wetlands, the robins are the first birds to sing in the morning and the last at night. That is, until the Carolina wren bounces up and down with its song. Once they encourage each other, if they’ve managed to lift one of your eyelids, you’re sunk. There is no more sleep. I get called into the day and I imagine, called into a blended being of song and activity. If first thoughts and last thoughts could feel as I do now life would be a dream.
~ ~ ~
It was confirmed for me, when I
heard the red-wings Okalee call there, that Lynn and I found another home for
our spirits at Island Beach State Park. I am not a cartographer, but the places
in nature that touch our spirits seem to be connected in ways not always known.
Everything begins with a feeling. It is kinship. After being in the womb of our
world, perhaps even those of us not “into” nature, respond just as the cowbird
does to its mothers song, or the quail, or the humpback calf that whispers back
to its mother. Even in the ocean, the sound of
connection streams to the source. Our
sense of kinship with nature might be broken but it is quickly repaired.
Listen. Just shhhhh for a moment.
Listen.
~ ~ ~
I have seen myself and others
influenced by friends and artists or people well known in their respective
fields. And I notice that the good
influences are like the gentle movement of water around bends that will also
seep onto the dry areas. By opening to another influence
we sometimes become more of who we are. I remember going to the wetlands to
talk to spirit about Lenny. This is when I saw the eagle come out of the
white-blue sky as if it slipped into view from another world. Grief and oak barrels leave openings, small
nooks and crannies for light and new life to bubble and emerge. That is why we
protect the entire biome. That is why protected areas, not just protected
species. We are what we are because of the areas we travel and roam, because of
the air that moves across our spaces, or the currents and storms, and the
people that touch us like gentle winds.
from
the old woman and morning songs ~ 12 in bird dreams, riding hope,
- sometimes a fable, weaving our
connections to birds, meandering rivers
and dragons, fermenting miso and consciousness,
wetlands,
our extended kin and ancestors, our mentors, and Wisdom.
Inspired
by actual events and a sense of place and belonging by a woman who addresses
the reader on behalf of the earth
Here’s my links, please share on your socials
https://amzn.to/3F5N7No
https://linktr.ee/fredakarpf
Check out bird dreams,
riding hope on Apple podcast
https://podcasts.apple.com/us/
