Going to the wild forest of myself to get this morning writing practice moving. Or to the hummingbird in the back corner lilac tree sitting on a twig of branch, singing its full body three line chorus again and again. This particular being is short beaked, short tailed, gray bellied with a white ruff at the throat and bum. Sun catcher when harvesting nectar from the sweetest flowers, revealed is a back side of shimmering green with a ruby red cap.
Hummers are loud. I know their call and can hear them, sometimes following the rhythm to locate the miniature bird. She is my favorite neighbor, the one who hangs out in the lilac branches. In and out through the day, I place my chair to have the clearest line of communication with her. Maybe I chant back at her, more often I sit in wonder.
If I get too curious, too close, I get buzzed. Territorial, the beastie will come up to my face or whiz past my head. Such a rush, big WOW’s, the experience feels like a blessing.
Believe it or not, there are times when Ms. H out sits me. Who knew a hummingbird could perch in one place for so long? Rarely still, even at rest, it is precious to observe fluffing, sounding, pooping. Seriously, how many people get to see a hummer poop? There are white spots on the leaves below the favored spot.
Totem, Teacher, Guru, a paradox entered through observation. Seeing who we really are, bearing witness means observing the reflections that surround us. The teacher is the one who brings forth something from the student, the guru, calling up the light out of darkness. I see Hummingbird and she calls forth my heart, my joy. I see Hawk and observe my farseeing perspective. I observe the seed sprouting, the plant flowering then bearing fruit, the pod, the re-seeding, and I know awe. My wild self satisfied in the not quite tamed back yard.