Humbled by the ways of Nature

  The wind thrashed around all night. We could hear it through the double panes of the windows and doors and through the walls of the house, battering away all night, at what I could not tell. It’s always pitch dark outside. The lights are so far in the distance, and while one can make out the outlines, you couldn’t see any effects of the wind on structures, because they are so far away.

This landscape is not a stranger to the wind, in fact they seem to be old pals and partners. Actually wind is too mild a word to use for the gales that visit these parts. They’re more like a tempest. There’s evidence of this partnership between wind and earth everywhere the eye wanders. From the windswept grasses to the craggy chiseled shorelines, and the stone ruins of the many kirks and castles big and small and in between that abound on the hillsides. 

In this rough landscape, how do the birds manage, I thought. Vain, vain, vain man, or in this instance, woman. I had soaked some rice for the birds, and thought, softened it will be easier to eat and digest, and I could add it to the oatmeal, as a small treat for the birds. It was 10:15 am already, and the birds were still not here. Usually they’re on cue after sunrise which has been hovering around 9:00 am. Never mind, I thought and put some out anyway. No takers. They did not show up at all. I did see them flying about further afield, but none came near the house, let alone the usual place I feed them.

Ditto the sheep. That’s the hard part. Et tu, sheep? They’re usually hanging around about the house and looking in now and then, steadfast in their mocking, sometimes curious, steady gaze. Today, even they weren’t interested in us. They were further away, possibly at the furthest field. So far away, I’ve never seen them go such a distance before. 

We had work to do, the car to load and then head out to make the overnight trip, so I left it at that. No photos today either. It was a reluctant drizzle, just enough to dampen things, and the sky was also gray, overcast. 

My thoughts were still of the birds, so many of them that would come, and today, none. I thought they knew we were leaving. To be honest though, I was quite disappointed. That’s how life goes, we’re all travelers. They know, know not to depend upon anyone and to live in the moment. 

All animals have a strong sixth sense, that’s a fact of nature. It was a well deserved snub for me. How vain of me to think that I have to provide for them. 

My mother used to say God looks after even the ants and why won’t he look after you? Another friend who was a little older to me, and very introspective and wise, had once told me that I shouldn’t concern myself with the welfare of others as much as I do. That I take away from myself when I do. That I underestimate the grand design of the divine. That everyone is going through what they need to at any given time. And I am reminded of her words often. Old habits die hard. However, with age and maturity, and with some effort the thoughts and habits can be reined in somewhat. Mine, not so much, not do easily.

So that’s what happened today, a well deserved humbling blow to my ego, if that’s the right word? Definitely to this sense of self importance. The audacity to think I was feeding the birds, or that they’d have gone hungry otherwise. Did I think I was indispensable? A visitor to their homeland  and already making assumptions, micromanaging, and all of those words that are used for people who think…or people who assume, like I did. As if I know it all. 

In a way, it’s nice to know that I don’t. Don’t know it all. It’s not my responsibility. That’s liberating to know. For someone who is supposed to be at that place in life, where we look inwards, and have supposedly accumulated some wisdom, (which btw I have not) I should have known better. It was a good lesson. Of many things. 

All my romanticizing of the birds and the sheep, was just that. The creatures of the wild are more pragmatic than us humans, though not without emotion. They know when to move on. From that I should learn a valuable lesson. Now I know, and for that I am grateful. Grateful for the experience and grateful for the realization. That’s a good thing to be thankful for! 

Approaching Orkney, and looking ahead to the journey.

Veenu Banga

12/27/21

10:08 pm.