I was laying down on my bed. The windows open and the sun streaming in through the open air. I live in a good-sized city and if the sounds themselves, when envisioned became, say, a belly...and I'd say the city-belly of sounds is almost always pretty full.
Sounds of the every-day life of the moment; the hum-drum sound of a car rolling by followed by the stop and go of a bus's upteenth time passing by on its route with sprinkles of the occasional human voices communicating random everyday experiences floating into my living space. My breathing space. As the light kept streaming in.
I lay there...and amid the city "noise" all I could really hear were the birds. I thought of the birds. Perched on wires, on streetlights. I live in a city full of concrete, like many cities. You have to commute somewhere to find a field or water. Around me are houses, and people, and various kinds of automotive vehicles. It is an environment almost entirely of people and people-related things.
I grew up in a space that was just the opposite. The people, the houses, the cars -- they were all foreign. The vastness of nature and environment around me engulfed the human civilization there. The sustained human footprint of my home, in Northern Alaska, had only just been planted, permanently, a few hundred years before; if that.
There I lay...thinking about being in amid all of this city and yet only hearing the birds. They sang, communicated and chirped as if saying, "I am here. We are here."
It was a reminder to me...a reminder that although we may construct these walls, this concrete...we are forever a part of life. It is sometimes easier to find -- out my doorstep at home; sometimes more subtle and less apparent. Listening to the birds, I found myself smiling.
The earth is full of all kinds of environments. In each, can we connect. In each, can we learn.
I hope, in moments of difficulty, in moments of triumph...in moments of life, you are able to find a moment to listen to the birds. ;-)