Do not try to save the whole world or do anything grandiose. Instead, create a clearing in the dense forest of your life and wait there patiently, until the song that is your life falls into your own cupped hands and you recognize and greet it. Only then will you know how to give yourself to this world so worthy of rescue.
Updated: Aug 20, 2023
It was standing on the concrete pathway leading to the teal front door of our house this
morning as I pulled into the driveway. Although it’s possible it was looking for something to eat, or perhaps was in search of just-so twigs for the nest he and his partner are rebuilding for the third time this spring, I swear he was waiting for me to come home.
This pair of doves has come to nest atop the archway over our front door for three years running. The first time they came, we were in the thick of COVID. They were the only guests we’d seen in months.
By now we know the routine. It goes something like this. They arrive one day in a whirlwind and in a surprisingly short period of time, amass a sordid collection of twigs and leaves, and sometimes even a few pieces of garbage or random debris. In a fervor, they pile more and more onto the thin strip of concrete above the door until they are satisfied. But invariably, the winds come, or the gardener’s leaf blower arrives, and the next morning we see the remnants of the bird’s nest scattered haphazardly in the wrought iron of the light post and down to the Welcome mat.
We lament the loss of habitat after such hard work, but reason that it is a good thing because surely now they will build a nest somewhere else where the chances
of survival for their chicks will be greater. But within days, they are back, yet again, building again, with even more gusto than before. In the case of this lovely pair, the second time seems to be a charm. They build their habitat in broad strokes, seemingly satisfied with a nest that to my human eye looks like it has been precariously hobbled together. I marvel at their capacity to arrive at imperfect completion before destruction strikes again. And then the mother settles in to do the hard work.
For weeks on end, I greet the mama each time I return from a morning walk with my dog, taking the kids to and from school, evening basketball practice, weekend trips to the grocery store while she incubates her babies underneath. Meanwhile, the father faithfully keeps watch for predators from atop the tip at the highest point of the garage roof.
Every time we mention the birds, my father scoffs. “Oh man, you gotta get those birds out of there! You should shoo them away, or place a grate over the top of your door. They’ll poop on your porch and make a big mess.”
But I have already decided I like them. I listen passively and then ignore his advice.
The first time we lost an egg, we found the fragile shell in sticky pieces on the ground, the small yolk dried, staining the walkway by the door. We mourned momentarily, and I wondered if my father had been right.
A moment later, the kids emerge with a rectangular navy blue dog bed our goldendoodle has refused to use since the day we brought him home. They place the soft cushion carefully below the nest, hoping that perhaps if the doves decide to stick around, it will be there to catch the eggs when they fall. That first year, no eggs survive.
But last summer, for the first time ever, a host of babies survive the arduous incubation. One day, they hatch. I know this because I notice the mother is gone. The nest is just high enough that I cannot easily see what’s inside. But I hear the meek chirping, and notice the dad is keeping a watchful eye from his perch. Within a few days, three babies have ventured out of the nest and are standing, wobbly legged, on the concrete
ledge. They look unsure of what to do next, and I wonder if I should bring back the navy blue dog cushion to catch them when they fall. The next day they are standing on the edge of the roof, now several feet from the nest and ledge. The following day they are gone.
This year when the birds announced their spring arrival with their usual nest-building ritual, I smile and silently communicate that I’m happy they’ve chosen to come back. A few weeks later, the mama is on her perch again, and I know new life must be brewing beneath her. I bless her, wondering if this year she will again successfully protect her young through those precarious initial weeks of life.
One afternoon, my daughter steps out onto the front porch to pick up an Amazon package and accidentally drops it with a thump. It startles the roosting mother and in a split second, the nest and egg have fallen. My daughter rushes inside, tearful and apologetic. “Mom, I scared the mama and made the nest fall. I killed the baby birds!”
I stop what I am doing in the kitchen and gather her up in my arms in a warm embrace. I stroke her forehead and hair, reassuring her, “I know you didn’t do it on purpose, sweetheart. It’s OK.”
I wonder if the dad is back today scouting out the location of the last attempt they will make at a nest for this season, or if he is just coming to say hello.
Updated: Jun 11, 2023
Below is a list of recent FREE Writing Workshops I've offered. I'm always creating new offers based on the interests of my fellow writers and am open to suggestions.
Finding Your Authentic Voice through the Gift of Writing (Friday, May 19)
The deeper I go into my own writing practice, the more clearly I see words on the page as a natural extension of my journey to be more fully self-expressed in every area of my life. As I learn to embrace myself exactly as I am, opening to creative practices that invite the words on the page to flow more freely, so too my VOICE and ENERGY become more available as instruments for doing the good work in the world that is meant for me alone to pick up.
In the third (and final) FREE Writing Circle Sampler in this spring series, Finding Your Authentic Voice through the Gift of Writing, we’ll explore how creative writing can have positive (and often unexpected) ripple effects on multiple other areas of our lives. We’ll draw on writings by inspired poets and contemplatives, and respond to open-ended writing prompts that invite us into the realm of the soul, where our deepest wisdom for how to access our gifts is waiting to be revealed.
Writing Your Way Into An Abundant Creative Life (Friday, April 14)
In recent months, creativity has become my most precious currency. Instead of obsessing about making more money, I’ve been putting my time and energy into l
earning to place value on the quieter (and sometimes invisible) qualities like creativity and compassion and community. I find that writing is the most effective portal to connect to my creative essence, which in turn fuels all areas of my life.
If you too enjoy writing–which so many of us secretly do but struggle to give ourselves permission to admit it--when was the last time you used it to imagine your way into the most authentic, creative vision for your life?
In this Writing Circle Sampler, we’ll use the act of writing in community as a portal to whatever creative force is ready to be born within us right now. I’ll draw on writings by inspired poets and contemplatives, and offer open-ended writing promp
ts inviting you into the realm of the soul, where our deepest wisdom for how to live a more creative life is ready to be revealed.
New Beginnings (Friday, March 3)
Next Friday is my Birthday. And on that special day, nothing would make me happier than the chance to WRITE in community, with you! That’s right, in honor of my new year and the change of season, I’m offering a FREE New Beginnings Writing Circle!
When was the last time you made space to invite something creative
and new into your life? In this Writing Circle, you’ll be given time and space for reflection, and to explore what is ready to be born from within you this spring. I’ll draw on writings by inspired poets and contemplatives, and offer open-ended writing prompts that will invite you into the sacred realm of the soul, the space where our deepest wisdom is always ready to be revealed.
Perspectives on the Pandemic: A FREE COVID Cleanse Writing Workshop (Thursday and Friday, January 5 and 6)
The Pandemic has changed all of us, in ways both big and small. From the loss of loved ones, isolation and loneliness to a deeper appreciation for our own resilience, family and friends and the restorative qualities of stillness, each one of us has an important story to tell from this tumultuous time.
In this writing circle-style workshop, you will be invited into a nurturing, non-judgmental space with other introspective women to explore the stories you long to write about the gifts and perils of the Pandemic. In this safe virtual space, we will write to release so we can enter 2023 clean and clear.
Let’s get together to
reflect and write,
listen and share,
laugh and cry,
all in a community of utmost care.