Saturday, December 30, 2017

Lessons From A Sparrow




© Susan Marie

Birds are interesting creatures. I adore them so.

Thankfully, I live around varied wildlife, however, the birds simply astound me. 

Every morning I am greeted by birds. They flit about, landing on my balcony, hovering in trees, on branches, gathering atop chimneys, swan-diving off the balcony, and choosing to settle in the crawlspace in my bedroom ceiling during cold weather. Those are the starlings. I do not mind this at all, nor do they cause a problem or damage. I enjoy it.


  © Susan Marie

I can hear them up there scurrying about with their little bird feet trying to stay warm in frigid temperatures. They sing to me and talk to one another and I hear them through the ceiling and that brings me peace. When that first occurred years ago, I thought: You are finally going stark raving insane

Not so.  

I think.

Observing wildlife this morning, birds specifically, brought profound existential realizations. We are not separate from nature and wildlife as so many humans think and feel, in fact, we are a mirror of nature itself. I have always felt this way, however, most do not. Today, this was proven to me. 

Let me explain. 


© Susan Marie

I live in a park-like setting. There are Japanese maples, maples, elms, oaks, ash, pine and cherry blossoms, to name a few. There is one particular tree, an adolescent among the rest, where all the birds attempt to take control of daily. Sitting here now, watching them, as if a thunderbolt struck my right temporal lobe, I thought: The birds are doing exactly what we do to one another in society. 

© Susan Marie 

I watched all the birds present, Coopers Hawk, sparrows, starlings, crows and bluejays and noticed that only certain birds were on the balcony rail or in a tree at the same time.  
The Coopers Hawk is typically in control of everything in this micro-sphere. Unless the hawk snags a baby crow, then all the crows go after the solitary hawk. In turn, the crow is then in control when the hawk is not present so far as going after squirrels and bullying other birds to remove themselves from the tree or balcony.  

 © Susan Marie

After that, the starlings are in control. They come in flocks and take over whole trees and my balcony all at once. If another bird happens to fly on the rail or on a tree branch, the starlings make sure that bird removes itself. I saw two starlings snuggled up with one another on the rail and then one pecked at the other.  


A single bluejay hopped up onto the rail and the starlings chased it away. Bluejays are not birds that easily give up either. They can be quite aggressive. The bluejays are new this year. They live in one pine tree, an entire family. There are about 5 of them right now compared to 20 or so each of sparrows and starlings. 


 © Susan Marie

Today was different. 

Today, I noticed something quite impressive.

The sparrow is able to move within all the birds and critters.

I was watching the tree that all the birds attempt to control. It was full of starlings. The crows were strutting about as they do, flying from one tree to another and cawing on the ground in the snow, but the starlings and bluejays were vying for control of this one tree. One bluejay flew into the tree, then another. When two were there, the starlings dispersed. Another bluejay flew into the tree. They had control of this tree. Then the starlings gathered around and all of them flew into the tree chasing away the bluejays. 

The sparrows remained in the tree throughout this fiasco. 

The sparrows are always there, on the balcony, the rail, in the trees with squirrels, bluejays, crows and starlings. Not the hawk. I saw the hawk carry away a robin and a small crow once, however, the sparrows are not out and about when the hawk appears. They hide deep in the thorny bushes where the large hawk cannot fly into. Smart.  

Meanwhile, all the other birds are out there flitting about trying to control everything.

 © Susan Marie

The sparrow is a small non aggressive bird compared to the others but that is not why the sparrow is different. The sparrow exhibits the middle way. You see, the sparrow is concerned about now, collecting food, making nests, gathering what is needed for existence. The sparrow is not concerned with control. The sparrow is mindful.


The sparrow is able to communicate and be around all species, birds and critters without being a threat. I have yet to witness any creature attack a sparrow or cause a sparrow to leave. I have never witnessed a sparrow being aggressive towards another living thing.

 © Susan Marie

To me, the sparrow represents those of us in this world that do our best to walk the middle way.  The other birds represent those of who have no control and attempt to take and gain control of others or those perceived as weak. 

Observing birds this morning, I witnessed all of us, society everywhere, pecking at one another, attacking each other, trying to control one another. Then I witnessed the sparrow, going about its day not bothered by the chaos of the other birds. The sparrow is not affected by this repeated game the birds play, the games that we, humans, play. 

The sparrow, to me, is by the far the strongest bird of them all. 

Today, I learned lessons from a sparrow.

 © Susan Marie




 

Thursday, December 28, 2017

The Little Paris Bookshop [Book Review for Penguin]









Nina George, prize-winning and bestselling author and journalist who published 26 novels, mysteries and science thrillers as well as over a hundred short stories and more than 600 newspaper columns, wrote The Little Paris Bookshop, first published in German as "Das Lavendelzimmer" on May 2, 2013. This newly translated German bestseller is a warmhearted, occasionally sentimental account of letting go of the old loves to make room for new. 

Set in Provence, this sensual novel deals with heartbreak, solace and the love of books. Translated into 335 languages, ranked among the top ten novels on Spiegel Magazine’s bestseller list for fiction since May 2013, and entered as well the New York Times bestseller list. 

Jean Perdu has lived in a time capsule of his own grief. Twenty-one years ago, his lover, Manon, left, leaving behind only a letter to explain herself—which Jean never opened. Ever since, Jean has devoted his life to his floating bookstore, the Literary Apothecary, a barge docked on the Seine. He can diagnose a shopper's ills (ennui, disappointment, a range of fears) and select the correct literary remedy. When heartbroken Catherine moves into his building, Jean brings her an old table and a stack of books to cure her crying. 

In the table, Catherine finds Manon's unopened letter and demands Jean read it, or she will. The two become enamored with one another, and Jean, buoyed by Catherine, finally reads Manon's letter, but the truth is heartbreaking. Manon returned to her home in Provence (and her husband—it was complicated) to succumb to an illness she had been hiding. Her last request was for Jean to visit before she died. Jean, overwhelmed this news, lifts the Literary Apothecary's anchor to finally make the journey to Manon. 

Stowed away is his neighbor Max, a young novelist running away from his fame. The two navigate the canals of France selling books for food, engaging in adventures small, large, all against the backdrop of quaint villages, and bittersweet memories. They take on some passengers: a roguish Italian who has been searching the waterways for his long-lost sweetheart; and a renowned novelist. As Jean makes his way to Manon's home (all the while writing love letters to Catherine), he prepares to ask for forgiveness—from the memory of Manon, from her husband, and from himself.

A charming novel that believes in the healing properties of fiction, romance, and a summer in the south of France. Nina George's lyrical tribute to love, literature, people, living, dying, and all things French was a privilege to read. This novel is a homage to the vanishing independent bookseller, but it is much more than that. It is a reflection on love and death and other deep subjects. It is also a love letter to France.