Birdsong

So one of my classes this semester is Ecopsychology, Art, and Meditation. Yes, that's one whole class. Part of the class is doing daily Place Bonding Meditations. You have to find a place outside and stare at it intently for 8-10 minutes. You aren't supposed to move. Just absorb everything around you.

I am not a nature person. When I was a kid, I did spend a lot of time outside. I grew up as the only girl in an all boys neighborhood so I spent a lot to time riding bikes, climbing trees, and making forts. When it came time to get my own bike, I didn't want a frilly pink one. I wanted a BMX bike. At the time, there were not BMX bikes for girls so my understanding parents let me get a boys bike. I've never understood the philosophy behind boys and girls bikes (I'm not talking about the color of the bikes but the position of the bar).

I think about the time I abandoned nature was around the time that my male friends quit being my friend. It really didn't bother me. I had books, Barbies, and my imagination to keep my company. I occasionally ventured outside when my dad wanted to play basketball or the neighbor ladies wanted to teach my tennis, but I never spent hours outside like I did when I was younger.

So now, I have to get back in touch with nature. Today, I stood and watched one of the birds in my backyard for my meditation. The tree it was perched on was still bare from the winter. It was about the same color as the tree and far away enough that I couldn't tell what kind of bird I was observing.

At first, the bird was quiet. It primped and fluffed. When it finally felt comfortable, it began to sing. At times, its song was beautiful. At times, its song was harsh. I felt like it was singing to me but that is just human arrogance. It didn't even fly away when I went back inside.

For the longest time, it sang by itself but after ten minutes or so, another bird joined in from afar. I decided to go back inside because I didn't want to eavesdrop on their conversation.