Birds Coast When They Can

** a writing prompt from Interwoven, a guided exploration of nature and a life lived in relationship, by Jane Pike. Check Jane out at: https://janepike.substack.com/ **

Birds coast when they can because the wind is their scripture. Inside the shell they already know, it is their birthright. The air is their music, their songs are praise for the holiness that is the sky itself. When I ask a bird why it flies, it says it does not really understand the question. “Why would I not fly? Can you not fly?” “No,” I say, “I cannot.” Nor can I coast it seems. It is forbidden. Forbidden is a word they also do not understand.

Trees do not coast, but they are not afraid to sway because the wind is their scripture as well. They send their roots deep and the earth is their music. They reach in praise for the holiness of the sun. We can grow, but most times we chose not to. A tree does not marginalize itself because it grows an apple instead of an acorn. There is no FOMA amongst trees.

Lions do not coast, but they rest without regrets. Their scripture is the hunt, and their music is made in blood and the wholeness of the earth. It is a holy journey for a lion to stretch each morning and turn west, towards whatever the day might bring. A wise man once said that no wild animal has ever participated in a should. We have lost the essence of ourselves somehow, and we loath to share our spaces with what is feral and unblinkingly honest.

Let down your hair, sister. Make a fire and be unafraid to sway within the light of the flames. We are trees, uprooted. Ground yourself in the earth and reach for the moon. Go to the place where the stars hang from the branches of the willow tree. Wait for the darkness and look into the eyes of owls and wolves. Living is not forbidden. Remember, birds coast when they can.