The best things in life are often unplanned. Over the weekend, I happened to visit Brighton by chance. We had wanted to visit but weren't sure if we could make it. We made the trip. We wanted to laze around and enjoy the gift of sunshine by the beach.
By the late afternoon, the Pier looked inviting, with the lights adorned like some mystical land planted on the sea. I wanted to hop on one ride that I enjoy to the hilt. While I certainly don't qualify for the carousel rides by virtue of age, I never leave a chance to enjoy it. Age is but a state of mind. As we walked up the boardwalk, we found that it was the season for murmuration sightings. Brighton was one of the many places famous for viewing them. I was energized, like a kid who learned that their favourite cartoon character was somewhere in the neighbourhood.
I finished my fun-filled carousel ride. The skies started to look like a painting. The sky was ablaze with hues of orange and red. The seagulls were flying home. Where were these wonderful starlings? I had already spent more than an hour in the vicinity, waiting for the little birdies to show up.
Have I told you that my love for little birds has reached a new level of adoration in the past few years? I will write about it some other time.
The group was eager to return home as it was starting to get cold. My eyes longed to see what I'd wanted to see for a long time. I had seen them on Nat Geo many years back. There was another infusion of curiosity while working in my earlier organization. After moving here, I fell in love with little birds. Murmuration got added to my long list of desires.
As I started to walk away, I spotted a small flock of birds swooning in from the beachside. Was it the starlings? Yes, it was a small group. I shouted with joy. It was my lucky day. Suddenly I found another flock joining the earlier group. Out of nowhere, a swirling mass of birds from a distance flew in like a group of ballet dancers.
The starlings were putting up the performance for the evening. Their synchronized display of movement, grace and rhythm left me teary-eyed with awe. With each swoop and turn, it began to look like a ballet musical playing against the backdrop of crimson-kissed skies. The child in me saw a whale emerge out of the birds. They looked like gifted shapeshifters visiting from realms beyond ours. I was witnessing something ancient and new. Each bathed in divine attention, the starlings twisted and merged like a living, breathing entity. At that moment, Whitman's eloquent quote, which I often share with my friends who don't get time to enjoy nature, rushed into my mind,
"After you have exhausted what there is in business, politics, conviviality, love, and so on — have found that none of these finally satisfy, or permanently wear — what remains? Nature remains; to bring out from their torpid recesses, the affinities of a man or woman with the open air, the trees, fields, the changes of seasons — the sun by day and the stars of heaven by night."
This was a moment of epiphany for me, too, as I'd been obsessing about a few worldly worries for the past few weeks. I am lucky to find moments of awe and wonder in my everyday life. I have written about it often. The last essay was on those lines too. Is there a limit to wonder?
Children experience it all the time. As we grow older, we tend to lose this sense while going through the rigamarole of life. I was like a child who sighted the moon for the first time or their cartoon character spring to life. Watching the starlings perform their communal ritual was humbling. The science behind the formations is not as complex as they seem while creating shapes in the sky. They come together during autumn mainly to share warmth during the cold evenings/early mornings and exchange information on feeding sites for safety against large birds before they roost for the night. That left me stunned.
It reminded me of Onbeing's recent episode with Dachner Keltner, where he speaks about the Eight Wonders of Life from his latest book on Awe. How can our lives be transformed in these tiny moments of transcendence through nature, collective effervescence and the gifts of being human? Can we bring and share more of it into the lives of our near and dear ones or our communities?
Those fifteen minutes of shared joy and wonder, experienced by everyone who watched the starlings perform the majestic show, was a living testimony of how collective effervescence can impact our lives. Most of us witnessing were connected by a shared thread of emotions. I would highly recommend watching a murmuration as well as listening to the podcast :)
I wish amid all the complex challenges that plague our world and lives; we get to experience these moments that can transport us into a place of pure magic. This experience reminded us that sometimes, we all need to look up to experience the universe full of such beautiful things.
Here is a short clip that I shared on Twitter.
The poems that spoke to me for this edition were these brilliant gems.
For Calling the Spirit Back from Wandering the Earth in Its Human Feet by Joy Harjo Put down that bag of potato chips, that white bread, that bottle of pop. Turn off that cellphone, computer, and remote control. Open the door, then close it behind you. Take a breath offered by friendly winds. They travel the earth gathering essences of plants to clean. Give it back with gratitude. If you sing it will give your spirit lift to fly to the stars’ ears and back. Acknowledge this earth who has cared for you since you were a dream planting itself precisely within your parents’ desire. Let your moccasin feet take you to the encampment of the guardians who have known you before time, who will be there after time. They sit before the fire that has been there without time. Let the earth stabilize your postcolonial insecure jitters. Be respectful of the small insects, birds and animal people who accompany you. Ask their forgiveness for the harm we humans have brought down upon them. Don’t worry. The heart knows the way though there may be high-rises, interstates, checkpoints, armed soldiers, massacres, wars, and those who will despise you because they despise themselves. The journey might take you a few hours, a day, a year, a few years, a hundred, a thousand or even more. Watch your mind. Without training it might run away and leave your heart for the immense human feast set by the thieves of time. Do not hold regrets. When you find your way to the circle, to the fire kept burning by the keepers of your soul, you will be welcomed. You must clean yourself with cedar, sage, or other healing plant. Cut the ties you have to failure and shame. Let go the pain you are holding in your mind, your shoulders, your heart, all the way to your feet. Let go the pain of your ancestors to make way for those who are heading in our direction. Ask for forgiveness. Call upon the help of those who love you. These helpers take many forms: animal, element, bird, angel, saint, stone, or ancestor. Call your spirit back. It may be caught in corners and creases of shame, judgment, and human abuse. You must call in a way that your spirit will want to return. Speak to it as you would to a beloved child. Welcome your spirit back from its wandering. It may return in pieces, in tatters. Gather them together. They will be happy to be found after being lost for so long. Your spirit will need to sleep awhile after it is bathed and given clean clothes. Now you can have a party. Invite everyone you know who loves and supports you. Keep room for those who have no place else to go. Make a giveaway, and remember, keep the speeches short. Then, you must do this: help the next person find their way through the dark. Nature Aria by Yi Lei Autumn wind chases in From all directions And a thousand chaste leaves Give way. Scatter in me the seeds Of a thousand saplings. Let grow a grassy heaven. On my brow: a sun. This bliss is yours, Living World, and alone it endures. Music at midnight. Young wine. Lovers hand in hand By daylight, moonlight. Living World, hold me In your mouth, Slip on your frivolous shoes And dance with me. My soul Is the wild vine Who alone has grasped it, Who has seen through the awful plot, Who will arrive in time to vanquish The river already heavy with blossoms, The moon spilling light onto packs Of men. What is sadder than witless Wolves, wind without borders, Nationless birds, small gifts Laden with love’s intentions? Fistfuls of rain fall hard, fill My heart with mud. An old wind May still come chasing in. Resurrection fire. And me here Laughing like a cloud in trousers, Entreating the earth to bury me.
I wish that may your coming weeks be filled with this lovely emotion as you go about your lives. We had our first poetry salon last month. It was a beautiful communal experience. Our next one is on Feb 19th. I would love for you to join us if you can. Until next time, take care.
I couldn’t help but come back to edit the post to highlight the latest humanitarian crisis caused by the devastating earthquake in Turkey and Syria. If you can, please consider helping. The best way is to choose a reliable charity or the local groups who mobilise help.
Ps: these two poems were curated via poets.org