My Friend the White-Rumped Shama
My friend, he comes at sunset. Just like me, he enjoys his baths. He dips in and splashes, shakes his feathers and turns a few circles.
This routine is the same every day. When he’s done he’ll flit to the fence top, where he’ll perch and cast off droplets. He dries his beak by wiping it swiftly on either side of the wooden fence. And after a short flurry of fanning feathers – a few shivers – the song begins.
Among the saffron-colored nasturtiums, rainbow prayer flags, and pink succulents, the Shama sings his end-of-day-song to the rosy sky.
It’s a friendly lilt, high notes in rolling patterns. It makes you want to give it your own try.
It’s the bridge we have to know we hear each other. My little whistle attempt. He repeats the pattern. Ever patient, he’ll give it to me again and again. But so often the notes that squeeze through my lips can’t quite match his song.
If I pause long enough, he’ll stop the call and response and break out into his own long soliloquy. Beautiful and happy, it’s an honoring of the day. Just Shama in the papaya tree. Fresh and clean and singing.
Babies in Big Bodies
I’m gifted a one hour window at the end of my day to throw off emails and throw on a pair of shorts. Make a quick drive down to the beach and get a short walk in.
My mind is craving freedom. The kind where I can let thoughts move and sift on salt air and sea breeze. Bare feet can sink in sand. My eyes can take in a distant horizon and remember what it is that holds me. Feel the tangible presence of earth and wind and water.
There are others on this quest as well. As I move along the shore toward the middle span of beach, the smattering of bodies increases. Lawn chairs, towels, beach blankets and some coolers. Visitors are here escaping colder January climes. I walk through a quiet maze of humans scattered in their special little places.
Some lie upon their sides, just gazing at the ocean. Others read a book. Some couples curl and cuddle up together. Grown men wade in shallow waters. Swimmers tread a little farther out from shore.
How I love to see these people all relaxing! Like babies in big bodies, we’re just soaking up the simple. Happy just to be. Pale skin seeks sunlight. Ahhh! Cell phones are put away. A large man just sits, his legs stretched out before him, doing nothing but looking at the waves. To see him in such a peaceful, child-like state fills my heart with gladness.
Not far from this beach (just down the road) adults zoom fast in big cars. They schedule appointments, send text messages and make important calls. But down here by the water, the grown ups are on hiatus, just sitting in the sun.
Can we do this everyday?
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