I was practicing yoga in our 3rd floor movie room yesterday, windows wide open (no screens).
A sparrow flew in - and panicked. So did I.
First I shrieked, ran out of the room and slammed the door, heart racing.
When I sheepishly re-entered the room - this poor little bird’s self-made “cage” - I noticed that the sparrow’s heart was racing too. We were one.
I spent an hour with that bird as she tried frantically to escape. I was practicing all the while, sending light (and clarity) to her and attempting to quiet both her and my anxiety.
At one point, it felt so sad and painful to see her suffer that I woke Philippe at 5 am (on Father’s Day – gasp) to ask how to get her out. We’d had this happen once before in the “normal” daytime hours in our bedroom when our balcony door was ajar and I’d fled the scene and he dealt with it. I thought he might have the *magic* solution. He did not. He said to just open the windows wide (they were) and let her find her way out.
*Sigh.*
This sweet bird taught me many lessons in our time together before she found her way out of her (self created) prison.
As she kept flying against the glass, trying in vain to “get out,” I realized how as humans, until we become spiritually aware of a situation, we figuratively do what that little sparrow was literally doing – slam ourselves against the same wall (window), do the same actions, think the same thoughts – which only keep us where we are – in a prison and in pain.
As I watched her stop at one point and just sit there, frustrated and hopeless, I was reminded how we all have our moments of despair, when we stop and look around for help. But are we OPEN to receiving the help? Are we OPEN to another way?
Then as she started to tap at the window with her little beak (instead of flailing herself against it) I witnessed her beginning to have some awareness. Some learning was sinking into her little heart. We can all relate, n’est pas? She was thinking out of the box -- and seeing what this thing was in front of her. She was beginning to see other possibilities.
As I watched her suffer, I was reminded of my intense desire to help her, even though I could not. I had to just watch, and wait and support her with my love and light. Ah, the metaphor. How many times do we watch our children (I call mine my “chickens”) suffer as they learn a spiritual lesson, and we must let them feel and learn and grow, even though we wish we could do it for them, take the pain away, help in some way. But they have their own path, their own learning. We cannot learn – or do it - for them.
Same goes for your partner, students, friends, extended family, sibilings, readers, team . . . the list goes on and on.
And can we stay calm in a difficult moment? I wondered many times during my practice with that little sparrow if I was getting more grounded and centered and more calm (my practice provides this for me every early morning) or more anxious because of my little friend in the room.
I had memories of my Mom, who died suddenly and unexpectedly in October, 2015. I saw from a new perspective why she couldn’t get out of an impossible situation. She tried. She couldn’t. She was the bird, the sparrow.
We are 3 days away from moving to our dream house in my happy place – Rhode Island – and I’m over the moon. Yet moving brings its own form of chaos, even though I love love love change. We have yet to pack a box (gasp) and I will use this experience with that little sparrow to navigate the waters. To stay calm in the midst of challenge.
And yet another powerful lesson from my experience on my mat yesterday morning : sometimes we ask for clarity and guidance, and then the spiritual learning sucks for a time. It’s painful. It feels like suffering. But eventually it’s better all around. It’s worth it. It’s WORTH IT, everyone. Hang in there. I’m rootin’ for you - but I cannot do it for you.