• David Carlson

537 Something opens our wings. Someone fills the cup in front of us. We taste only sacredness.

Day 537 Saturday, September 4th 2021

Something opens our wings. Something makes boredom and hurt disappear. Someone fills the cup in front of us: We taste only sacredness.



FROM SWALLOWS TO SNOWBIRDS by Brother Toby


As they do every year, the swallows come up from South America to our place. They have many tasks to perform: nests to build, eggs to lay and hatch — and then new lives emerge! The vulnerable little ones must be fed and cared for. The adults join together to protect all the nests from the ever-present danger of marauding predator birds.



Then, the final task — teaching the little ones to fly. First, they have to leave the nests. Perched on the gutters, they learn to flap their wings and at last they take a chance and discover the miracle of flight! Reflecting on this time of year, the Persian poet Rumi (1207 - 1273) may have had swallows in mind when he wrote:

Something opens our wings.


And that “something” produced a faith which allowed all the swallows, big and little, to circle and circle until they knew that all could make the flight back to the warm plains of Argentina.


Perhaps Rumi also had in mind those of us who stand in one place and watch the miracles of our feathered friends when he wrote his next line:

Something makes boredom and hurt disappear.

September can be such an ambiguous month. I have waited so long to harvest the bounty of the garden. That time is here but I fear it could soon be over. So many special people touch me, but they are here and gone. It seems like such a short time since all the trees around me were blooming, and now the autumn colors begin to appear. I feel like shouting, “Slow down! I want to enjoy this moment longer!”


But all of life is contained in each moment from our first breath to our last. And the seasons frame those eternal now-moments.


If I take my eyes off the sky now empty of our swallow guests and look down, I see that the flocks of snowbirds are arriving from the already cold mountain peaks of the Northwest. They are hungrily scratching and feeding after their long flights. They will share my time and space in whatever is to come.

Already, there are some leaves on the ground beneath trees that stunned me with their blossoms such a short time ago. This is a time for storing souvenirs of precious moments in hand and in heart.

Time for us all to move on now, but have no fears or regrets, for tying all change together is that “something” which takes our hand and gently guides us forward.

Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it. - Rumi


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