The Egret Returns
This article appeared in the January issue of my newsletter Spreading Sunshine. (To subscribe, log onto www.lauriesmith.com.) A few days after that article was written, the egret visitor returned. Here is the full story. Enjoy! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
As I walked out of my bedroom, I could scarcely believe my eyes. There, on the other side of the sliding glass door was a huge egret, stretching her snowy white neck and looking back at me. In my shock, I expected her to startle and fly away. Instead, she just stared back at me through the thin little sheet of glass, just a few feet away.
She came on a day when I was looking for answers. Silent prayers had left my mind—questions about life, about love, about where my life was heading. The egret seemed like an answer from beyond, a message, a whisper in reply to what I hadn’t even realized I was thinking, let alone considered if anyone had been listening.
Perhaps the timing of her arrival was a coincidence, any connection a result of my imagination working overtime, or even wistful thinking. Even so, I couldn’t help but feel as if somehow I had received an answer, a reminder, if nothing else, that everyday magic happens, and that somehow there is a weaving together between my own, simple life and the workings of the divine.
We stayed there for more than a half hour, that egret and I, gazing at each other through the glass. We started our time together started almost as meditation, me too shocked to move, aware of each breath as I stayed frozen in space, desperate not to scare this miracle away. She too stayed frozen, the way animals do when they are trying to assess whether they are at risk of becoming prey, or having an otherwise ordinary day. At one moment, she crept closer, balancing gracefully along the railing of the balcony, first on one foot than the other, making her way closer to the glass, as if to get a better view.
Gradually, as if in a dance of getting-to-know you, we laid aside our guards. I slowly shifted in position to get more comfortable, then walked into the next room to tell my husband of our visitor. She began preening her feathers, as if in the comfort of a good friend with whom she could just be herself.
When she finally flew away, with the onset of sunset, I said a silent prayer of thanks for the time we had together. I wished her well. I thought that was the last I would see of her, and was grateful.
Two days later, while I was making dinner, she arrived again, almost like a good friend checking in. I was just thinking it would be time for some space clearing in our apartment. Time to shake out the cobwebs, get rid of some last lingering clutter left over from the move, time to do a deep clean. Suddenly, out of my peripheral vision, I saw something fluttering and white. She came like an “Amen,” a confirmation that I was on the right path, suddenly appearing just like before. This time she stayed much longer, at least an hour, if not nearly two, watching me closely through the glass the whole time, again keeping vigil.
As I prepared the meal, every movement was aware of her, there, a few feet away, like a dear friend who shows up when you need it most with a good story and a chat, to help time pass.
In her presence, every moment became sacred, the act of cooking shifted from drudgery, to an act of gratitude. Like an hour-long prayer of thank you, I worked away, while inwardly bowing to her as if she were a guru. When she finally faced west, again at sunset, and took flight, I couldn’t help but wish that we would meet again.
As I walked out of my bedroom, I could scarcely believe my eyes. There, on the other side of the sliding glass door was a huge egret, stretching her snowy white neck and looking back at me. In my shock, I expected her to startle and fly away. Instead, she just stared back at me through the thin little sheet of glass, just a few feet away.
She came on a day when I was looking for answers. Silent prayers had left my mind—questions about life, about love, about where my life was heading. The egret seemed like an answer from beyond, a message, a whisper in reply to what I hadn’t even realized I was thinking, let alone considered if anyone had been listening.
Perhaps the timing of her arrival was a coincidence, any connection a result of my imagination working overtime, or even wistful thinking. Even so, I couldn’t help but feel as if somehow I had received an answer, a reminder, if nothing else, that everyday magic happens, and that somehow there is a weaving together between my own, simple life and the workings of the divine.
We stayed there for more than a half hour, that egret and I, gazing at each other through the glass. We started our time together started almost as meditation, me too shocked to move, aware of each breath as I stayed frozen in space, desperate not to scare this miracle away. She too stayed frozen, the way animals do when they are trying to assess whether they are at risk of becoming prey, or having an otherwise ordinary day. At one moment, she crept closer, balancing gracefully along the railing of the balcony, first on one foot than the other, making her way closer to the glass, as if to get a better view.
Gradually, as if in a dance of getting-to-know you, we laid aside our guards. I slowly shifted in position to get more comfortable, then walked into the next room to tell my husband of our visitor. She began preening her feathers, as if in the comfort of a good friend with whom she could just be herself.
When she finally flew away, with the onset of sunset, I said a silent prayer of thanks for the time we had together. I wished her well. I thought that was the last I would see of her, and was grateful.
Two days later, while I was making dinner, she arrived again, almost like a good friend checking in. I was just thinking it would be time for some space clearing in our apartment. Time to shake out the cobwebs, get rid of some last lingering clutter left over from the move, time to do a deep clean. Suddenly, out of my peripheral vision, I saw something fluttering and white. She came like an “Amen,” a confirmation that I was on the right path, suddenly appearing just like before. This time she stayed much longer, at least an hour, if not nearly two, watching me closely through the glass the whole time, again keeping vigil.
As I prepared the meal, every movement was aware of her, there, a few feet away, like a dear friend who shows up when you need it most with a good story and a chat, to help time pass.
In her presence, every moment became sacred, the act of cooking shifted from drudgery, to an act of gratitude. Like an hour-long prayer of thank you, I worked away, while inwardly bowing to her as if she were a guru. When she finally faced west, again at sunset, and took flight, I couldn’t help but wish that we would meet again.
posted by Laurie Smith @ 1:54 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home