The Stillness of Hummingbirds

I am not quite sure when I became obsessed with hummingbirds. I don’t ever remember seeing them in the wild growing up in New Jersey. Though, we did have fireflies, which we do not have in California. Those were always a symbol of summer for me. I would catch them in a jar and watch them glow for a while before setting them free once again. They were magical, like nature’s fairies, a real live Tinkerbell. Maybe that is why I am so Pan like and never want to grow up. Or perhaps it is the state of the world. But today, I am finding moments of escape and true bliss. Today I am tuning out the noise and focusing on the music, both literal and metaphorical.

The literal music… I have been playing, for probably the 25^th time, the new My Morning Jacket album, Is, and it soothes my soul more than I can express. Last night I started a sprouting jar full of “sandwich boosting” sprouts. They do not make a noise, until I rinse them and re-spread them through the jar, like playing a gentle egg shaker along to my favorite song. And this morning, nature’s music, as the little baby hummingbird returned to my freshly filled feeder.

He or she makes me stop in my tracks and just watch for as long as I can. I know the slightest movement might scare them away, and in fact, when I opened the screen door to get a better photo, that is exactly what the little baby bird did. Zoooooom! From stillness, to bobbing in and out of the holes of the feeder to get to the homemade nectar, to a thrushing sound and speed that seemed to be Superman like.

I am not quite sure when I became obsessed with hummingbirds. Actually, I can probably pin point the exact moment. I was on my friend Gabby’s patio and watched what seemed like dozens of hummingbirds swarming her feeder. I was mesmerized, but the best was yet to come. She had these little “ring” feeders, which I have since bought yet not attempted to use, that you filled with nectar and placed on your finger. If you remained absolutely still, the hummingbirds would literally hoover over your hand, or sometimes even perch on it to sip. Wow.

I had set myself up so I had one hand still, the ring hand, and the other videoing on my phone in slow motion. Once they got used to the image of me doing that, which I guess they monitor for change or movement, watch out National Geographic. I was now my own Marlin Perkins. Add in Jim Fowler and me, and I was now co-hosting Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom. It was breathtaking. The slow motion captured every flap of the wing, and yet, as miraculous as their speed was, I was perhaps even more fascinated with their stillness… the moments they stopped.

As my little baby bird sat mostly still on the feeder this morning, all of those images came rushing back. What a metaphor for life. Even those who are constantly moving and flying and jaunting off need stillness. My brain, which moves at the speed of a hummingbird, is often filled with fear and dread. I cannot comprehend all that is going on in the world, especially as I watch human beings destroy nature and morality and the ethics we were taught, and in turn, destroy each other. My brain makes the same thrushing sound as a hummingbird’s wings, but in my ears that sound is not pleasant… the one coming from me and my thoughts that is. The hummingbird is different. It is escape and realization. Innocence and purity. It is natural and nature and yet mystical and magical. It defies gravity, just as much as it defies logic. And these days, we all pretty much desire to defy logic and reality.

As much as I admire the speed of flight, today, I am focused on the stillness. The moments of quiet and solitude we seek out in meditation and prayer. As we get into bed and close our eyes, and try to move from chaos to calm. From war to peace. From day to night, with stars and planets and wishes and dreams.

As I stand and stare at this baby hummingbird, for what seems like forever, but is probably less than a handful of minutes, I can still hear its song, though it is quiet. I can still hear the thrushing of its wings, though it is not moving. And at that moment, we are one and the same. Silent. Motionless. Living. Breathing. Being. And I do not have to yearn for it, for at this particular point in time, I have found the stillness of hummingbirds.