Finding Home

 I can now identify and name at least 9 bird species just flying around in the vicinity of our garden. Each time I see one, I cry out the name, cutting in conversations much to the annoyance of my partner or much to the fright of our long-time house help, but very much to my own delight. So I asked myself last night, "Why this delight? Why such pleasure?"  There is something to be said about naming. It somehow gives the object a concrete quality. Proof of life, if you will. In the practice of Mindfulness, there is an exercise where we are asked to name the particular emotion whether heavy or light, overriding the current state and then later on to name where it manifests in the body. To name something is to give a face to it, allowing one to finally, well, face it making the previously unnamed to be less fearsome, less cumbersome. Naming as well, allows for a deeper and greater appreciation of what transpires in the mind, body and heart.  Taken into the context of delight an

"Hokusai says look carefully. He says pay attention, notice. He says keep looking, stay curious. He says there is no end to seeing."      Yesterday morning a brown shrike perched on one of the branches of our Avocado tree, which was directly in my line of sight from my place at the breakfast table. The iron grills of our screened veranda perfectly framed the bird in diagonal parallel lines. It shivered and looked this way and that and pecked at its own body. And then it became completely still. I looked at the shrike for what seemed like quite a long time as it remained on that branch for what seemed like an eternity. The morning was quieter than usual and nothing else seemed to move nor make a sound. I could hear nothing save for the thumping of my heart and quickening and calming of my breath as I watched the movement and stillness of the bird.      I am inclined to believe that this is the same shrike that perches on our water tank staying longer than other birds, as if po