Death & the sky

to sing in the face of overwhelming uncertainty

a vast and dimming sky

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Hello. This post is about Death & Birds.

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At dusk, the Church tower sends out seven bells. One after the other they move, like Doves, through the valley as the Robin and the Blackbird move from tree to tree, each performing their integral parts of the evensong, singing the day westward and calling in the night. Every evening we sit, like children, beneath a vast and dimming sky as the lesson of impermanence is offered to us, again and again. Song surrenders to hush, detail to silhouette, sun to stars; nature ever generous in her attempts to prepare us.

A story goes that a Persian king once asked some wise folk for a phrase that would always be true. After some thought, the wise ones gave the king four words: this too shall pass. Dusk shares a similar wisdom. In this space between day and night—where both and neither exist—there lives a poetry and potency which has seen candles and prayers placed into it for millennia. Death and the sky, too, seem to offer equally undefined, liminal places, both best inhabited by beings uninvested in permanence.

The temporal nature of existence is a truth whispered gently, over and over, between shouts. Whether or not we choose to listen to the quieter invitations directly impacts how we relate to impermanence; others and our own. It equally affects what it is that we choose to place value and importance upon. After all, if we had eternity to play with, the meaning of life would be significantly diluted.

I have spent countless hours lost (or perhaps gained) to the quiet reverie of taking in the comings and goings of our garden Birds. I tell myself that they are free of the worry to which my own species devotes so much time. Of course, there is much cause for worry. The future is a place densely populated with unknowns, and when a present concern spurs a proaction which ripples consequence forward through time it can serve a wonderful purpose.

So much of it, though, doesn’t. So much of it merely drains our psyche, and distracts us away from the small circle in which we can truly exert some influence. Some of those hours spent worrying could be used instead to prepare. If you couldn’t tell, this is my long and winding way of saying: for the love of God, write a Will. You are never too young. If you have just one possession which is meaningful to you, write a Will. And then write the letters that say the things you would wish you had said. Or, better yet, go and say them.

Last week, our neighbours were gardening and they disturbed a wasps nest in the ground. I don’t think I even realised that wasps sometimes nested in the earth. The hive attacked them and, on that crisp, sunny Monday afternoon, the husband of the couple, overwhelmed by stings, died. Beyond the whispered reminders, we are not guaranteed a warning. The relative mundanity of life outside a conflict zone masks an unpredictability which pervades the entire universe.

We’ve had a few storms here, lately. And it would seem that there are storms brewing on horizons all around the world. Seabirds navigate storms by riding their periphery. They allow the powerful currents at its edge to propel them forward, all the while keeping a distance that ensures they are not pulled into, and overwhelmed by, its chaotic centre.

To negotiate with the storm is to negotiate with life. The balance needed to surf the swells equally requires a balance of courage and humility. So much is beyond our control. Certainty doesn’t exist in nature. Pattern and rhythm provide a level of predictability, and even beauty; but nothing is fixed.

Nonetheless, the young Bird asks for no guarantee before her maiden flight. The Gulls risk the edge of the storm. Nests are built and the evensong is sung.

For all I know, this may never even reach you—but I’ll write it, regardless, because that’s what we must do: persist, love, sing—all in the face of overwhelming uncertainty.

Yours in aimless flight…

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Friends, through the extraordinarily generous donations of thousands of supporters, Folly Wildlife Rescue has managed to raise over £100,000 of its target. My deepest and most sincere thanks to everyone who donated ❤️