Crows, Rivers & clarity (or not)

perspective: the micro and macro of life

this is Sir Crow, given to me by someone very dear to my heart. he sits on my patio table, watching out.

dear sojourners,

i used to call my old apartment my “nest." it rested above the ground floor apartment and was two stories. had Douglas Firs front and back nestling it. an assortment of Birds would visit the birdbaths and a rare Crow would stop by. their clan’s cawing was easily heard reverberating off the complex of buildings.

my new abode, where i’ve lived four-and-a half months, is “grounded.” located in a small complex of condominiums, i have one unit above me, whose resident feeds Birds and i appreciatively watch as they flit from Dogwood to her balcony, down to Rhododendron, over to the fence that encases my patio, a few stop by my birdbaths and then back up to Dogwood. with Spring mating season in full swing, it is a constant whirl of activity.

this new area, more open than where i was before, is also home to a rampage of Crows (which in my estimation is far more than a murder.) they often gather out the backside of the complex, which is an expanse of park popular with dog walkers, to plan their adventures. Robins coexist with them, both pecking at the weedy meadow where they convene. for the most part they do the equivalent of a Crow eye-roll when an enthusiastic pup chases them, alighting on old Apple or Oak trees until the “danger” passes.

the other morning while i was sipping at my morning smoothy, i noticed two Crows tugging on Dogwood’s twigs. this seemed to take effort and, being a large bird, also rocked Tree’s branches. “hmm, interesting. nesting material?” this has happened a few more mornings. i thought about going down a Google rabbit hole to explore “Crow nest building habits,” wondering if these were perhaps young Crows. or males wanting to build a nest to woo a female. or perhaps rebuilding old nests after our devastating january storm, which felled so many Trees.

Crow’s nests are evident in bare treetops from late Autumn until the leafing of Spring once again secludes them in a panoply of greens and reds. i imagine this wondrous Corvid scanning the landscape for food, company, and souls ready to be taken behind the veil (that is their call, after all) from their pinnacle, keen dark eyes, always aware. always.

i decided to not go down the rabbit hole. to simply watch Crows bounce and tug on the branches of the yet to bloom Dogwood. wondering at the marvel of their nest building. wondered why they chose attached material and not the scattering of twigs and branches on the ground. i wondered what “home” means to Crow and to other Birds and Beings.

i’m finally settled into my new nest. a ground nest because of course Birds build nests everywhere. “bird-like” is not something i would have consider myself. more Earth and Water person than Air…and yet as i’ve aged, i’m drawn to both the physical wonder of Birds and the metaphors that are wrapped around them. i can see why humans have found inspiration in them since, perhaps, our first breath. i’ve written poems about flying. about Icarus. that desire to be free and lift off the ground. it is powerful.

to move with the ease of Water is also powerful. on wise advice from my own spiritual director, i took a hike Saturday along a River. moving Water, in flow with life. with the present. to be present. River doesn’t ask my opinion or even offer one, though the William Stafford poem Ask Me, one of my favorites, infers that perhaps it does… that last line:

“What the river says, that is what I say.”

standing by a late Winter River, rapidly racing with earlier rains, River is anything but silent. Certainly mesmerizing in its trilling, Bird song harmonizing. Like Birds that soar, moving Water also says “freedom.” what do i need to free myself from? what am i holding on to tightly? i don’t have answers to the questions River is offering. i’m beginning to think|intuit clarity is overrated. or did it just read that on another Substack post? i can’t remember.

Lacamas Creek. march 16, 2024 photo by anne richardson

(as an aside, i lap swim five days a week. i am very grateful to be immersed in Water. it is a meditation practice, the rhythmic back and forth. but not long ago i had a strong sense that i was in captured Water. i felt a sadness. i offer a deeper gratitude for the chlorinated Water that holds me. and there is this…that Water evaporates and enters back into the Water cycle. so perhaps i’m overthinking this…)

this is all to say that being by Water offers me perspective. what am i in control of (certainly not River)? standing by River, listening to the movement of Water, singing of Birds, noticing fallen Trees shifting the current, the all of the ecosystem…it is in constant change. i am a part of it. i breathe it in. i see myself in the flow of my own life. i head home to my nest, my blood flowing more like a gentle stream. grateful.

the next day i am told that the owner of the condo of “my” nest needs to move back in due to a death in his family. this is sorrow. this is Grief. i am given notice to vacate. overwhelming. the River is surging within. i do understand. have deep compassion, after all, this is the work i do in the world, and still…i grieve this sudden shift in my own life. one of my ways of being is to create routines so i can do my expansive exploring in other ways. my nest is my grounding.

and, such a BIG AND for perspective: folks are evicted from their homes without warning all the time. left houseless and are without resources. climate change disasters and wars in several countries as i write this…homes gone in an instant, often with accompanying deaths with little time to mourn.

the city i live in has a huge homeless problem. when i walk in our urban areas, i try to honor the tents, the shopping carts, the cars one repair away from undriveable that house an individual or family…to view them as someone’s home. their nest. the issue is complex with many facets and i am not an expert. perhaps you have some thoughts?

life is both/and. the micro and the macro. this is my little life that i am having to cope with. fortunately i live in a state the protects renters and i’ve been given some time and “relocation” expenses. i have dear friends who are offering the heart support i desire. i already know i will be okay…because kindness.

i don’t know many people who don’t want to have a sense of home, whatever that looks like. a place that feels secure and safe. a nest. that’s what the wise Crows told before i knew i needed a new place to land…”you’ll be able to create a new nest.”

and the River, before i received the news, River said “life can change around the bend. rapids can come, hidden Rocks and Tree limbs, Sand bars. a rapid warming that suddenly melts Snow pack or droughts that leave the bed dry and cracked. be with it all.”

how about you? what does home look like to you? what have you been observing as the season is shifting (Spring or Autumn depending on where you live?) what is shifting in you as you observe the world around you…do you feel you are an integral part or separate from? curiosity is helpful. and being gentle. these are hard times.

i also want to acknowledge my upbringing has been seeped in colonial and capitalistic teachings. my biased understanding of home and how i abide on the Land…well it is slowly unraveling. and as someone in their mid-sixties, i also bump up against my own desire for physical comfort as i age (yes, somewhat an illusion.) so just putting that out there.

you may recall from previous posts, i often mention Báyò Akómoláfé and the creative mycelial network known as We Will Dance With Mountains, now morphing into The Emergence Network that has emerge from his post-activist approach. many wise and innovative thinkers. keeps my head spinning and pondering. if you are interested in the movement, there will be a session titled, Dreaming Together, March 31. approximately 90 minutes. here is the link to register (on Zoom). perhaps i will meet you there in the Zoom room.

i hope you are taking tender care of your hearts.

in gratitude,

anne

ps—an update. there was another unit for lease in the same complex. i will be moving a couple of doors down and to a second floor unit in three weeks. owners (who live local and use the condo for investment property) are very nice and happy to have someone who is already part of the community. relieved.

pps—a couple of years ago i invited myself to write a poem-a-day for the month of march using portals provided by the amazing Janice Lee. it was such a gift. please check out Janice’s books and what she is offering through Corporeal Writing.

the invitation was: ”When you are looking out the window, what are you really looking at?” and this poem was the response that arose from a cross-country flight from Florida to the Pacific NW as Sun was forever setting on the final leg of the journey.

Flying

It took eternity for the sun to set at 40,000 feet,

Our chasing it with want. If only Icarus had known

These wings. Dark swallowing clouds, clouds

Swallowing us into dark. Faces reflected on

Ovals. A fingertip outlining a blurred lip trying to

Speak. Pointing. I saw them. We all did.

Though we had no words. Some turned away.

I could tell they thought it was imagined.

Dark playing tricks. Tired. Pull down the

Blind. Plug in ear buds. The children

Understood. They always do. A few wept.

Others prayed. One woman smiled, her

Face radiant. I won’t say they were angels.

Or souls lost or on their way. Or the dead.

Or very alive. Maybe dreams. Nightmares.

I thought I saw you there. Then realized

it was me.

by anne richardson