While I was sitting
this morning, Phoebe came and perched on the woodpile. She had a bug
in her mouth. Phoebe seemed to doze for a moment, and I thought”What
would happen if, in a doze, she didn't notice Hawk?” Then I
thought, “Where is her mate? Is he dead?” Moments later, he
showed up. I was relieved and noticed how much I loved them living on
the East side of the cabin.
Later, as I opened
the door to go pick Strawberries for breakfast, I startled Coopers
Hawk. She flew from the ground up into the canopy. Not twenty feet to
the North, on the dog run, Phoebe looked on. Had her mate just been
killed? I walked down to where Hawk had been. There were small gray
feathers scattered around in the grass. My heart sank. The other
Phoebe flew away.
I walked up to the
Strawberry patch to pick. I was not quite steady on my feet. In the
moment it seemed that there were no more berries. “Has the time of
Strawberries passed,” I thought? Then I began to see them. Still
there. Still many. Why hadn't I see them moments before? “What else
am I missing,” I though?
Once I'd picked
enough berries for breakfast, I walked East to see if I could spot
the surviving Phoebe. The Eastern deck came into view, and I saw one.
I waited for the moment. Then I saw the second. Grateful, I though,
“Not our Phoebes.”
The thought
shuttered through me. “Not our Phoebes?” What about Hawk? What
about the bug in Phoebe's mouth. Bug died. Phoebe died. Strawberries
were picked. Then I started to see. Attachment to Phoebe had caused
my heart to sink. More importantly, my attachment had distracted me
from something larger. A friend of mine introduced me to a powerful
image. It is the image of holding a frame and pulling it back,
allowing more to become visible. I use this image to change my
perspective. In a small frame the death of Phoebe is tragic. In a
larger frame, Bug, Phoebe, Hawk, Strawberry, and I are all part of
something miraculous. Something where death and life meld together
into a sacred flow of purpose.
Today, I will be
doing my best to hold that larger frame, though I want so much to
return to the smaller more familiar one. The familiar one where
Phoebe and her mate live forever on the back deck, and I watch them
happily, choosing not to think about bug.
