November 5, 2025
A bird does not sing because he has an answer. He sings because he has a song.
Joan Walsh Anglund
My home office has a view of the Pacific ocean, which is nice. The sunsets are quite something in the fall. But what I most enjoy is the birds. Their singing, their chirping, their flying. I enjoy watching and listening over a cup of coffee, my windows open to catch the morning breeze. I have such a connection to birds that I have a tattoo of a swallow on my right forearm, which serves as a reminder of our freedom.
I think if you can sit still for a moment, and listen to the birds, you’ll hear a message. A gentle reminder, that amid the cacophony and chaos of daily life, there is a sweet, simple chorus. It plays for us, and often in spite of us. To hear the birdsong is to be present, to appreciate that we’re never really alone.
In nature, we’re always connected. To God, to each other, to our fellow spirits. How could we ever feel bored or lonely? The grace of their wings tells us - go, be free. You were meant to fly.