Motion

If you’ve ever been at the viewing platform at John Heinz Wildlife Refuge early in the morning, you’ve probably observed the tree swallows engaged in a flurry of acrobatic activity, zooming above the water as they catch insects in mid-air and then rush home to feed their young. They never seem to sit still long enough to actually see them, unless they’re at the nest itself, in a frazzled rush to fill the many urgent little beaks that demand food.

Their energy is admirable and they’re wonderful to watch in motion, but I was struck when I finally saw one alight on a reed at just how rarely I see them pause. For a tree swallow, that probably works - their goals are simple but urgent, all about collecting the energy needed to be a top-notch aerial insectivore.

My thoughts sometimes feel like they’re locked in a whoosh of activity, flitting here, flitting there, probably less gracefully than the tree swallows in the arcs they trace as they fly high and low. I don’t know how to slow them down, and the things I ruminate on aren’t always healthy or good when they’re points of fixation. Seeing the swallow take a moment to rest was an invitation to stillness - though it was a little easier to stop the thoughts when I had an unobstructed view of a beautiful bird to concentrate on.

Recent events have slowed all of us down, but the circumstances provoke anxiety. It’s hard to focus, as I hover over one task, then another, but never come in to land. There’s a need to plan and to fix, but too much uncertainty to make any plans or fix most problems. If you’re feeling like I am, take a moment to accept that this is how things are for reasons beyond your ability to control. Let the world be as it is. And in that freedom of giving up, let your mind slow, still, and rest. Whatever happens will be, but for now, this is the time that is given to you.