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For a while now, I have been seeking something different professionally. Recently, some new possibilities have opened up when it seemed rather hopeless for a while. I am confident and–in many ways–comfortable with my current position, but I might be able to take on bigger challenges.
A change of scenery especially in the winter is always inviting to me. I am going away for a couple of nights to the Berkshires this week-end. Usually it is a cross country ski trip but that area is now lacking in snow except for one spot we may check out. I am looking forward to getting away from my nest but it is a new nest so i will look forward to returning as well.
To be overcoming fear is the invitation. To commit myself and to be present. Yes, if I still may.
I left my nest a few months ago…my husband, Peter and I have been traveling since mid November. Yesterday was a long driving day…8 hours and we were all quite tuckered out! We left a new found nest yesterday to volunteer for a few months in a Community of retired RV people who have chosen to live now in their RV’s in a place that provides three meals a day, social gatherings and the wisdom of a nurse when needed. We did this last year and found it difficult and fullfilling…so we are helping out for a short time now as some people have cancelled and the Community was in need. I like to travel but do miss my nest in W.V. We will be heading back home in mid March…and I will be once again grateful for my home and land. In the meantime….I am grateful that I get to help some folks and maybe in some way make their days better.
This question speaks to me about change. It is easy to be blind to the fact that change is happening all of the time. I am not the same person today that I was yesterday. Not that long ago they used to chop the heads of Kings off, eat sheep’s eyeballs and didn’t know how to fix teeth. If anything, that pace of change is increasing every day. For me, the invitation is one on being an active participant in change and creating the new tomorrow. I have accepted the invitation.
I have been kind of a hermit as of late, not wanting to be out there much, for all sorts of reasons. Now that the weather is getting nicer & I realize that I need to pull myself up & out of this “funk”, I guess it’s time to leave my safe, secure nest & fly a bit. I have been grieving my mom’s passing (02/17/2022), & brother Kerry’s for a bit now, and am wondering if wanting to hide from the world is part of the grieving process.? I pretty much have been processing this grieving thing alone. Maybe it is time to “fly” & move along, move past this sadness & emptiness. Not sure… Thanks for the food for thought. Blessings to All here…..❤️🙏🏻
I’m so sorry for your loss. I’ve had some loss in my family and have read poems and phrases that spoke to me. The one that has stayed with me the most is that we do not move past our sorrow, we move with our sorrow. How you live your life and what you feel in the moment may shift over time; your love will still be there.
Barb C., thank you. I will definitely remember your words about “…moving with our sorrow.” It makes so much sense & is comforting.
Your thoughtfulness has touched my heart.❤️
I grieved a long time when my Mother passed.. Maybe find an on-line support group to see if that may help. Hiding definitely may be part of the grieving process. It is important to take care of yourself though even though you will feel like you are pushing yourself some days.
Robin Ann, thank you for your kind thoughts. Please do take care of You, too.❤️
There is no “right way” or “shoulds” about grieving. I am so sorry for your losses – I’ve been there. You don’t need to “pull yourself out” of the funk. Go outside, take the funk with you in your backpack. The sadness will, I’m sorry to say, never really go away, but it will become bearable and you will hopefully be able to see the grief as a measure of how much you loved your mother and brother. Be kind to yourself, and take it a day at a time.
Dear Dolores K., thank you for your thoughtful & kind response. I love “take the funk with you in your backpack”. I most certainly will take it with me as I walk & walk. Walking has been my therapy, my medicine.
P.S., my Mother’s name is Dolores.❤️
Hello PKR, I am so very sorry for your losses….and perhaps staying in “your nest” is a way of being safe and perhaps coming to terms with your losses. We all grieve in the way that is best for us…and maybe you needed this time for healing. May Peace Be with You. Blessings.
Nannette, thank you. Your kind words are comforting. ❤️
Dear PKR, I am very sorry for the losses of your Mom and brother. I would guess that wanting to hide from the world is indeed part of the grieving process. I am not an expert in any way on the best ways to re-enter the world, though I have lost family members myself. Would it help to do something you have enjoyed, or has been supportive in the past? If you are comfortable out in nature, perhaps start there … a walk, for instance. If you need to go to a store, perhaps a bit of verbal exchange with someone there … ask where you might find a particular item, a simple short conversation as you check out, something like that. If you are near friends at all, a simple gathering? A walk, a meet-up for coffee? Be kind to yourself, most importantly. I’ve been in some situations where I just told myself to “do one thing.” Blessings to you!
Dear Pilgrim, thank you for your kind words & suggestions. I appreciate your thoughtfulness, not just this post but your responses to the daily questions always emit thoughtfulness.
I have been at the same job for almost 10 years. I love it, but the commute is really challenging for my family situation. A new job opportunity has presented itself, but it is not as stable or comfortable as my current situation. I’m terrified to fly away from the comfort zone of my current situation, but I feel that this new position might be a good move for my family.
In a funny coincidence I am literally going to be flying later today. I’m going back to a city I used to live in and staying with my best friend so I’m basically going from one nest to another.
Beyond that, I’m not really finding a way into this question. I don’t feel any need to disrupt familiar and comfortable patterns, and everyday life and work give me plenty of challenges without leaving that nest. Whether I soar or not depends on how much coffee I’ve had!
I have “left my nest” a few times
in my life. Although, I would say they have
been more like eviction notices than
So far, life hasn’t really given me
invitations. there are things that
I wanted to do or change and it has
always taken effort and desire, on my
part, to make these things happen.
I learned a long time ago, not to wait
This question prompts me to share a story I wrote many years ago when I was living in the deep south. I hope you will have time to read it.
Learning to Fly: The wisdom of the Doves
Birds don’t give advice. They don’t judge but if you take time to truly observe them as they go about their daily lives, they can be great teachers.
It was early one morning over three years ago as I engaged in my morning ritual of opening the Roman shade in my living room that I saw a pair of Mourning Doves diligently preparing a nest in a hanging basket located on my front porch. As I watched, they were gathering twigs and depositing them on top of the thyme seeds I had just planted in that planter a few days ago. It was fun to see this nest building exercise up close and sharing my dwelling with the doves really appealed to me. I could always plant some thyme seeds somewhere else.
I didn’t know much about Morning Doves so I did some research and discovered that they mate for life and the Mama Dove lays two eggs at a time. In the course of one breeding season she could lay a total of 12 eggs so I would have a good chance of seeing some baby birds up close. Observing them became part of my morning ritual.
In the three years they’ve nested on my front porch, I’ve only seen one egg fail to hatch They’ve gotten so used to me being around that I can walk right up to their nest and Mama just looks at me as if to say, “See my little ones. Aren’t they cute?”
During the nesting process, it has always been Papa going to get the groceries to feed Mama as she patiently waited for the birthing to begin. There wasn’t room for Papa to actually join her in the nest. He just kept guard on the neighbor’s roof each day. As I awaited for the arrival of the little ones. I had no idea where he spent his nights.
I definitely became a bird watcher and I could always tell when the eggs had hatched because Mama and Papa would both fly off and leave the babies alone while they gathered food to feed them.
It is fun to observe the newborns. They start out with little bald heads perched on patches of grayish brown fuzzy bodies. Gradually all that fuzz turned into sturdy feathers. At the point where they actually look like birds, Mama and Papa would leave them alone for much longer periods but Mama always returned to feed them bill to bill.
I always hoped that I would be lucky enough to be around when the babies took flight. I wondered if that involved trial runs or some kind of lessons from mom and dad. I knew that when they first tried to fly, they did not get far because I had seen the babies hopping around behind the Azalea bushes in flower bed next to my porch and I had witnessed their parents still bringing them food. I so wanted to be present to witness the day when they would confidently soar through the air to begin their own lives.
It was in the fall of the third breeding season and Mama was caring for her last set of babies. I was checking the nest each morning when I discovered that she was gone and only one of her two babies was in the nest. Throughout that day, I kept checking the nest. Was she going to come back? Why was the one baby still there? Might it have a damaged wing? If it was injured, would she just abandon it?
It was during the afternoon of the next day that I spotted her in the driveway in front of the house. I stood in the living room window to see if she would fly into the nest. Her baby was frantically waving its wings, trying to get her attention. She seemed indifferent to its pleading call.
As I watched I noticed how every few minutes, she marched closer to the front porch, making sure she was still in the baby’s view. She would stop and look up at her little one who by this time was continuously jumping up on the edge of the planter, teetering then falling back into the nest.
Again and again, Mama moved closer and closer always staying where the baby could see her. Finally, in what seemed like desperation, she strutted on to the porch and positioned herself under the hanging basket and began calling to her frightened youngster. The baby bird could no longer see her and I realized that this was by design. Mama wanted it that way. She wanted her little one trying so hard to see her that it would have to spread its wings and fly.
The baby bird kept jumping up on the edge of the planter in an attempt to get a glimpse of his Mama. Its body would sway precariously. Mama didn’t budge. She purposely stayed directly under the nest knowing that to see her, the youngster would have to exit the nest. S/He would have to fly.
And finally it happened. There was no soaring. There was just a frantic fluttering of wings that brought the baby bird down to the porch floor. I’m thinking to myself. Is Mama Dove sighing? Then I saw her lock eyes with her little one as if to say, “Follow me.” Then she led the youngster into the Azalea bushes.
Why I wondered did Mama Dove find it important to get the baby to flutter down to the ground and I do mean flutter because it was apparent that the bird could not yet actually fly. Wouldn’t it have been safer to have the baby bird stay in the nest until it could fly? After all, my Azaleas offered some protection but not much safety from the cats in the neighborhood.
I was, however, truly in awe as I thought about how Mama Dove had handled her little one’s fear. I thought of all the times fear had kept me safe in my familiar nest. The nest might have no longer been the best place for me but it was familiar and it made me feel safe.
Change has always frightened me and I always shake in my boots when dealing with it. My need to control my environment usually rules. I understand the childhood bullying planted a fear of failure and rejection deep in my physical, mental and emotional bones. No matter how much I grow, no matter how many times I experience success, my ability to commit to anything that involves performance leaves me just like that little bird. I find myself shaking in my boots. But watching that Mama literally bait her little one into spreading its wings and fluttering, not flying, through mid-air is an image I can’t get out of my head. It reminds me of all that I missed in my long life, of all the times when I declined opportunities to see, know, and do interesting things out of the fear of rejection, out of the fear of disappointing myself and others.
Today, the gift of a long life and many challenging experiences has taught me that my job is willingness and it is the key to transforming fear into love. I may not always soar but I am grateful to know that I’ve always been able to fly. Even if like the baby dove, I’m shaking in my boots.
A beautiful, beautiful story here, Carol. Thank you for sharing it with us.
I feed the birds (and the squirrels, apparently!) around our house and enjoy watching the bird’s comings and goings. But it’s the doves that love watching the most, actually. And during the day they sit high on a tree branch or telephone line and coo back and forth to one another. In my case, we have tons of American Goldfinches, with their bright yellow coats. In the spring, I enjoy watching the Goldfinch mammas coax their young to my feeders. The young birds sit on the edge of the platform feeder and their parents eat seeds, then regurgitate it into their babies mouths. Always something to enjoy and learn while watching!
Kevin Thanks for sharing. You painted a vivid picture. I can really see those Goldfinches! Glad you enjoyed my story.
My heart aches for the people in Turkey and Syria this morning. That is devastation on a scale I cannot imagine.
The approaching spring sure helps us in Michigan get out and about more, especially those of us getting on the older side.
We had to miss the first grandchild’s wedding in Texas because of my heart surgery. I am finally starting to feel better and starting cardio rehab on the end of the month. Perhaps we can attend a graduation in May or at least have an adventure nearby. Flying is getting very challenging at our ages. But a drive to Lake Michigan is always lovely. It is however, always a relief to return to the safe harbor of home as Kevin says.
Actually, I will just love the opportunity to sit outside at a restaurant in the warmer weather with a friend. Or just take a walk when the streets aren’t icy, and we don’t have to bundle up for the cold weather.
Praying for your speedy recovery Rabbit & strength for you as you heal. I hope spring comes soon. Blessings, 🙏🏻❤️🌸
I certainly can relate to all you voiced. I enjoy getting out and mingling but the harbor of my abode is so comforting. Leaving my nest means exploring crafts, and reading. I don’t think my life is any smaller because of it.
When I asked my husband this question, he said reading Horse by Geraldine Brooks. I just finished it and he is going to read it now.
What is a favorite book of yours Yram?
I like the idea that we can interpret the questions in ways that make them meaningful to us and in ways that meet our needs and situations.
My favorite book would be the one I currently read. I don’t have a favorite as such.
I am into ATLAS OF THE HEART by Brene Brown
LIFE CHANGING FOODS by Anthony William.
I just finished GENIUS UNDER THE TABLE. I am not sure of the author.
My desire for a better life invited me to leave my “nest” last February 16, 2022 when I made the decision to seek help at an in-patient addiction treatment center. The flight is ongoing and has led me to a daily practice that includes this wonderful site and all of the inspiring community that share their reflections and support for one another here.
Your post gives me hope for so many suffering with this disease! Thank you for sharing Joseph.
Glad that you chose to leave the nest. I’m praying for you.
Your daily recommitment to your recovery inspires me, Joseph. I pray you continue to continue.
Thank you Don and Peg Ora.
Fly Eagles fly!! sorry, had to! I actually have a planned trip up to Philly in March. My one daughter moved into the city and I’m looking forward to seeing her new apt and going the the flower show and doing ‘philly’ things:)
That sounds lovely. My first job was working in a flower shop. Enjoy! Maybe a picture or two for the Gratitude Lounge? 🌺
good idea, I will remember this:)
Pictures from the Philadelphia flower show would be a treat!
I will definitely take pics:)
Living in Philly now is very “uplifting.”🦅
Gotta admire those Philly fans. My great Aunt Rose was from Hanover PA and was a staunch fan of Philly baseball and football.
Today’s question reminds me of the maxim, “A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.” (John A Shedd 1928). But I also know that every ship needs its harbor eventually, every bit as much as birds in flight need to land to rest as well.
These days, while I leave my “nest” daily for much shorter flights, I return to it often with joy, gratitude, and thankfulness, that it’s here, and it welcomes me in.
When I looked at the weather today the warning was GALE WARNING. I thought that only happened in the seas, not the Great Lakes. I don’t know if we have any ships moored here now but I hope they are safely tethered. I think there is a spiritual meaning here.
I had that quote on a poster in my office at work for many years.
And as I recall, Rabbit, didn’t the poster have an image of a ship in a harbor?
I enjoy that same consolation, Kevin.
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