Iona Winter

I looked up at the sky today through some plastic roofing, and watched the birds hoping across with their forked feet and soft-feathered underbellies. It gave me a completely different perspective. One I don’t think I’d seen before—or perhaps hadn’t allowed myself to see. I have a thing for birds, seeing them as messengers, and when I listen I am often surprised. This (slightly) spiritual-ecological view aside, maybe what they offer me is a chance to listen, just outside of my everyday conscious awareness.

Sometimes, when I remain very still in the garden, I can blend in (just a little) with the environment—and then the birds will come closer. While I’m doing my best to camouflage myself, I can open more of my senses and experience the wide range of notes the birds use. It’s true I’m not a musician’s backside, but I do know that the notes I hear are only a few. There are a plethora of sounds I cannot hear, for they are pitched far beyond my awareness. BUT I can feel them.

My hypothesis is that the same is true for many things in life. We can amble about, merrily referencing our lives to only that which is seen or heard, without pausing much to take in the layers and complexity which may also be present.

I wonder why we do this? Actually that’s not entirely true. I reckon we do this because we are excellent (most of us) at avoiding things. There are risks involved with seeing, hearing, or sensing outside of our everyday awareness. AND while I find the notion exciting, others might possibly find it scary. WHO KNOWS what we might hear, see or feel if we allowed ourselves the freedom to move outside our current awareness? Don’t worry dear readers, I’m not going to go all quantum physics on you!

Back to birds and their beautiful underbellies, and how this links to us humans. Oh yes, you know me too well…of course there’s a link! We’re very adept at noticing one another’s underbellies, but in a negative sense. Quick to point out what we see as faults, shortcomings or problems. But what about our underbellies that are softly feathered with passions and desires? What about those huh? If we allow ourselves a moment to pause, we might just glimpse another perspective (either about ourselves or someone else). How wonderful is that notion? And it’s free!

Enough said. I’m pleased to report that I’ve glimpsed my belly feathers, rippling with passions and desires. But do you know what moves yours?