When do the hummingbirds
get naps? When do they sleep?
The tiny helicopter-birds,
buzzing about their busy business
all day long are nowhere to be found
at four fifteen with dawn an hour away.
When they’re at rest, they’re gone.
Evaporated. They don’t exist.
It’s only busyness, activity
gives them their visibility,
their realness in our eyes.
Maybe we think the same of us.
Without our work,
activity,
we disappear,
Or so we fear.
by Judy Sorum Brown
Ah, the old challenge of finding yourself more of a human doing than a human being… freshly offered by Judy Sorum Brown in the metaphor of a hummingbird that is either fully ‘on’ or ‘disappeared’ in the deepest stupor sleep. I came across the poem in the inspiring anthology Teaching with Heart, Poetry that Speaks to the Courage to Teach – where Judy shares a poem by Mark Nepo that speaks to her own priorities as educator, and further on another teacher shared the above poem.
Of course it’s not a rational fear, but nonetheless I think it’s something that may of us will recognise in some form or another. Around me I often see it cropping up around retirement – who am I if not my the identity I had in work? My dear stepdad would almost hum with pleasure when my brother affectionately called him ‘doctor’, 10 years after he packed away his stethoscope and completed his decades at the hospital. And even during holidays, days off or in the quiet moments there can be a flavour of it – is it safe to stop, to rest, to trust that being is enough? Could it be true that I don’t need to achieve and accomplish in order to be worthy of acceptance and love?
And this is where meditation practice come in, gently encouraging us to turn towards that discomfort, that fear of stopping. The stillness waiting with open arms, welcoming us to put down the burden of fearing not-enough and see what happens if we just come as we are. It will be worth it…
PS there’s a new Level 1 course starting soon, check out the dates if you’re interested in finding a group of people to make that journey with.
Photo by John Duncan on Unsplash