small soiled wings

little wings
hummingbirds.

I have a thing for them. a sacred thing. something that re-assures me, that somehow – and I don’t know how – but somehow it will be okay.

okay is a weird thing. because if I was told what okay would look like when a crisis starts, I would not think the coming outcome to truly be okay.

if we, and by “we” I mean “me”, could choose the outcome of crisis, it would look as if nothing ever happened. we would choose things to remain the same (or better, like “winning the lottery” better).

we certainly would NEVER choose for things to get hard and messy and feel like utter helplessness and chaos and suffering and pain and… well you know how it goes.

but something happens to us, if you let it, when everything goes amok. not only does the circumstances change, but we do too. there is an acceptance and softening that can happen, that we could NEVER imagine possible. it can be a subtle heart change that makes all the difference in the world.

it makes the end result of crisis become okay. sometimes it takes years. sometimes it takes mere moments.

I’ve watched a friend go through cancer, and lives with it to this day. tell her at the announcement of her crisis (that moment the doctor sits you down with a solemn face and tells you your fate and you drive home in a fog and you get home and you start falling apart) that it will all be “okay” and she’d likely throat punch and kill you. …….but, today she’s okay. a damn rough road, scary, and exhausting. but she’s really okay. in fact she’s kinda amazing….

okay.
it’s okay.

it’s okay because it became okay. okay is NOT giving up. okay is acceptance and grace and gratitude for what we have. for learning an invaluable lesson in our smallness and bigness.

okay is learning to rest after your whizzing flight like a hummingbird. heart beating 1,200 beats per minute, and wings flapping 80 times per SECOND in the midst of the crisis.

but then we come to rest, it’s as if we’ve just flown up to the sweetest nectar. resting and drinking it in. this sweet pause for a hummingbird is called “tupor.”

for us it’s:
acceptance,
grace,
growth,
courage,
strength,
resilience,
being okay.

it never comes with status quo.

it only comes with change, that can be hard…. really hard (and seemingly impossible to ever get to okay in that moment).

the last time I really thought, “this is it, I can’t take it anymore, I’m not going on, I’m just not, I’m done,” I heard a hummingbird, my assurance, a reminder…

just like a baby that stops crying when you blow in their face, I softened instantly. for that moment I was reminded – I’m not alone in all of this – and somehow it would be okay. had no idea how, but somehow it would be okay. my sobbing cry turned into silent streams of tears as I watched that little bird whizzing.

it would be okay.

today, something like 700 days later, it really is okay. it’s not perfect, it’s not easy, but it’s okay. I drink sweet nectar and find gratitude for all that has happened. and oh the things I’ve learned, that would have never come to be if it wasn’t for that seemingly impossible change.

it will be okay. it will.

“Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.” ~ j.lennon

keep flying, let your wings get all messy and soiled, but keep flying… and I hope you find your nectar.

xo, me
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2 thoughts on “small soiled wings

  1. I am in awe of the Hummingbird there is a unique magical beauty to them. I want to see one in the wild one day. But we don’t have them in Australia. Beautiful post I will keep flying and dreaming of hummingbirds too
    Kath

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