Moving to the coast has brought me closer to the nature I have always loved and revered, yet rarely allowed to permeate my own soul to the depths it does now.
Birds are first among the creatures I am always awestruck by. And at or near the top of that ever-changing list is always the raven. Growing up I never knew the difference between a crow and a raven and, upon moving to Oregon and seeing my first in person, I realized they are like night and . . . larger, darker night. :)
No, really. . . the differences may seem slight to some but the more you are around them both, the clearer the definition becomes.
This is how I see people too. It can be hard to differentiate between our true flock and just the kind or nice birds, the warblers with the sweet songs or the beautiful-in-flight that hover around our lives. . . some of us tried to be one of the swifts or the starlings moving in unison and traveling in numbers. . . but then, over time, it becomes clear that we are of a particular cast and, in spite of all our well intended desires for creating community, or celebrating diversity, there is a deeper level, an innate call in the soul that we must listen to that tells us we are often just one of two. . . or a few. . . that truly fit.
It took me years to figure out what fit in my life and it began with my desire to live true to the list of what didn’t fit. And especially those who tried so hard to fit with me. To be one of the flock.
The landscape we traverse, if we really get up above it all and look down, are large and lonely spaces. It’s easy to see why we become so adept at trying on different colors and songs. . . and sometimes why we forget what lies underneath it all. . . the feathers that we can never change.
But, once we DO see it. Once we accept it as our lot. It seems that we can quickly begin the path towards recognizing ourselves, and what fits with us, and then drawing those few others that were always just meant to fit.