Oh gosh Chloe this is just so good. Every word. Reading your writing is like coming home.
It is good to be amongst company who also talk to birds. I have wondered if I was mad at times. But then I reassure myself that I think it is madness to miss all the wonder that surrounds us, if we only just pause to notice.
I chat every day to the birds. When I am out running little fantails dart in and out alongside me, the tui calls out with her beautiful song as I pass by. It would be rude not to reply. Yesterday a quail with about 8 little "quailings" wandered across my path. "Hello" I said! "Good job mum!! " I encouraged. Sometimes birds make more sense than humans.
Everything is here in your writing - the snail, your friend you wanted to buy the Bowie print for. You gently but profoundly dip in and out of your day just like a little fantail. Touching on things, and then moving on.
Just beautiful. Sorry for the long reply. Could have probably gone on longer but didn't want to be too much of a bore... Thank you. Jo ððŠķ
"The barometric pressure of the exquisite potentiality held within every single moment of existenceâand the responsibility which that impliesâcould easily crush us". Wonderful writing, Chloe. Such a great post. And I loved David's comment in the cathedral.
I listened to you read your words, a first for me, the listening bit, and I was transported. Just brilliant, and thank you for this, and all that you do
This made me gasp for the beauty of your thoughts and words. Thank you! And it reminds me of a favorite snippet from a Rumi poem (I don't know the name of the translator, I'm sorry):
Chloe, this was so beautiful! My inner archaeologist also had a good chuckle at what David said in the cathedral about the bones
I loved what you said about how being with the birds made you feel like you were homeðWhen I was growing up, there was a hawk that sat on a fence on a small city airfield, watching the cars go by. I silently named him/her Horus, and sometimes when I was outside playing or walking, I would look up and see a hawk (sometime multiple) flying overhead. Reading your post made me think of that bird, and how I somehow felt a sense of safeness when seeing him/her.
Merry Biscuits! My boyfriend/partner also call each other endearing nicknames-some that are baked goods. Sometimes we also call each other nicknames associated with a certain birdy PokÃĐmon named Pidgeyð (The irony being that Iâm not big on nicknames, but being with him has softened me a bit to them, haha)
I was sipping the first tea of the day and gulping the freshness of the air (a favourite habit, as it starts getting light). A cawing crow invited me to look up (I'm always looking up, anyway - and down, because that's interesting too) and I watched them gathering. Right above me.
A murder of maybe 50+, wheeling around together. I hoped they were looking at me and remembering my stupid sleepy gaze.
Then they started up. A real shouty racket. And, as one, they set off together in a vaguely easterly direction.
They roost, of an evening, on the edge of the woods just west of mine. So I saw them 10 hours later, being all shouty again as I walked by the beeches, oaks and (surviving) ash they presumably call home.
Have you tried resting your forehead on an old tree and feeling what comes back? I recommend this as a daily practice. If you occasionally feel the boundary between yours and the tree's energy dissolve, that's a result.
This beauteous, breathgiving essay gives me all the Biscuit feels. May you have a wonderful Christmas and New Years. May 2024 grace you with more aliveness and abundance. I adore you! <3
Oooooohhhhh!!! What a glorious, heartfelt way to start my day!! So many gentle sensations, but an overwhelming sense of peace. Thankfully. Dear Daniel, now passed. Sigh. It takes many, many years to overcome that sensation of wanting to gift someone with something âjust rightâ only to remember that âthey would no longer have use for itâ. In fact, we probably never move past it, but then why should we? As you reminded us so eloquently earlier in this piece, even a thousand years after death, there is still some degree of comfort to be found in their presence... Sigh...
I was thinking we wouldnât hear from you again this year, that you were having a break. So this was an unexpected delight. Thank you so much dear Chloe. This truly feels like a special gift and is very much appreciated. I will have a listen to it/you later when I donât have a snoozing puppy dog beside me. Sheâs an old girl. Her Mum finally gets home on Saturday after a month overseas and sheâs been missing her dreadfully so I want to let her sleep as long as I can. But I will listen, later, and share this time with you again from across the world. Thanks SO much.
Merry Christmas my dear. To you and your dear fellow. All the best for the year ahead. ðĪðĪðððĨ°ðĨ°
Hola , Siempre Es Un Placer Leer Estos Hermosos Relatos , Transmiten Paz , Belleza Y Sobre Todo Esperanza. Me Encanto EstÃĄ Estrofa: Ãste Acto De Silbar A Las CrÃas, Un Intento Torpe Pero Efectivo De Hablar Su Idioma , ProvocÃģ Una AgitaciÃģn En MÃ Que Inicialmente No Pude Etiquetar. Un Saludo.
This one took my breath away. I love your writing Chloe... and I love feeling Davidâs presence in your writing too. Thank you for sharing this with us all. Itâs truly a pleasure to read.
Hi Chloe - I hope you had a very merry holiday. As usual, your words find me at the perfect moment. I was thinking of you today, while on my walk on the River Po. I was trying to befriend a particular crow - who was very handsome - with some biscuits that I pocketed for the very purpose of sharing with bird friends on my walk. Unfortunately, just as he was getting close to hopping to me, after several offerings from me, a biker road by, very fast and noisy and my handsome crow took off, squawking. I didn't blame him. A few minutes later I was waiting at the crosswalk and a crow landed on the streetlamp and started cawing - was this my friend? I was out of biscuits. When I returned to my apartment I pulled an animal spirt card from the Wild Unknown deck (that always travels with me) and it was the crow. Crow magic is strong. Then I remembered I had been saving your email post and sat down to read it. Just wonderful and lovely. A happy Boxing Day by all accounts.
This was such a beautiful surprise to my day. Thank you for sharing your words and heart with us, Chloe. Your voice is so soothing and I think I could listen to you speak to me forever! Your words transported me, and I felt like I was walking beside you the whole way. The snail bit felt close to home, as I always take a moment to apologise and acknowledge what has happened when I feel that sinking feeling after stepping on one by accident. Much love to you!
Oh gosh Chloe this is just so good. Every word. Reading your writing is like coming home.
It is good to be amongst company who also talk to birds. I have wondered if I was mad at times. But then I reassure myself that I think it is madness to miss all the wonder that surrounds us, if we only just pause to notice.
I chat every day to the birds. When I am out running little fantails dart in and out alongside me, the tui calls out with her beautiful song as I pass by. It would be rude not to reply. Yesterday a quail with about 8 little "quailings" wandered across my path. "Hello" I said! "Good job mum!! " I encouraged. Sometimes birds make more sense than humans.
Everything is here in your writing - the snail, your friend you wanted to buy the Bowie print for. You gently but profoundly dip in and out of your day just like a little fantail. Touching on things, and then moving on.
Just beautiful. Sorry for the long reply. Could have probably gone on longer but didn't want to be too much of a bore... Thank you. Jo ððŠķ
"The barometric pressure of the exquisite potentiality held within every single moment of existenceâand the responsibility which that impliesâcould easily crush us". Wonderful writing, Chloe. Such a great post. And I loved David's comment in the cathedral.
I am in awe of the way you see, write, live, speak and thankful you share your world with us all. And I love that your nickname is Biscuit ð
I listened to you read your words, a first for me, the listening bit, and I was transported. Just brilliant, and thank you for this, and all that you do
This made me gasp for the beauty of your thoughts and words. Thank you! And it reminds me of a favorite snippet from a Rumi poem (I don't know the name of the translator, I'm sorry):
"At night, I open the window
and ask the moon to come
and press its face against mine.
Breathe into me.
"Close the language-door and
open the love-window.
The moon won't use the door,
only the window."
--Rumi
âBirds, mushrooms and Dolly Partonâ - ðlove your ornament collection Chloe! ðïļððš
Chloe, this was so beautiful! My inner archaeologist also had a good chuckle at what David said in the cathedral about the bones
I loved what you said about how being with the birds made you feel like you were homeðWhen I was growing up, there was a hawk that sat on a fence on a small city airfield, watching the cars go by. I silently named him/her Horus, and sometimes when I was outside playing or walking, I would look up and see a hawk (sometime multiple) flying overhead. Reading your post made me think of that bird, and how I somehow felt a sense of safeness when seeing him/her.
Merry Biscuits! My boyfriend/partner also call each other endearing nicknames-some that are baked goods. Sometimes we also call each other nicknames associated with a certain birdy PokÃĐmon named Pidgeyð (The irony being that Iâm not big on nicknames, but being with him has softened me a bit to them, haha)
The other morning I thought of D&B.
I was sipping the first tea of the day and gulping the freshness of the air (a favourite habit, as it starts getting light). A cawing crow invited me to look up (I'm always looking up, anyway - and down, because that's interesting too) and I watched them gathering. Right above me.
A murder of maybe 50+, wheeling around together. I hoped they were looking at me and remembering my stupid sleepy gaze.
Then they started up. A real shouty racket. And, as one, they set off together in a vaguely easterly direction.
They roost, of an evening, on the edge of the woods just west of mine. So I saw them 10 hours later, being all shouty again as I walked by the beeches, oaks and (surviving) ash they presumably call home.
Have you tried resting your forehead on an old tree and feeling what comes back? I recommend this as a daily practice. If you occasionally feel the boundary between yours and the tree's energy dissolve, that's a result.
Happy Biscuit to you and your readers.
It is the unabashed love that occasionally, without warning
comes bursting out from your heart in the form of compassion .
It feels palpable , and Iâm sure takes a while to carefully gather all the edges , gently tucking them all back in
until the next time.
If I can feel it in your words, Iâm sure your David would agree.
I wish you love and joy however you choose to celebrate the coming season.
This beauteous, breathgiving essay gives me all the Biscuit feels. May you have a wonderful Christmas and New Years. May 2024 grace you with more aliveness and abundance. I adore you! <3
Oooooohhhhh!!! What a glorious, heartfelt way to start my day!! So many gentle sensations, but an overwhelming sense of peace. Thankfully. Dear Daniel, now passed. Sigh. It takes many, many years to overcome that sensation of wanting to gift someone with something âjust rightâ only to remember that âthey would no longer have use for itâ. In fact, we probably never move past it, but then why should we? As you reminded us so eloquently earlier in this piece, even a thousand years after death, there is still some degree of comfort to be found in their presence... Sigh...
I was thinking we wouldnât hear from you again this year, that you were having a break. So this was an unexpected delight. Thank you so much dear Chloe. This truly feels like a special gift and is very much appreciated. I will have a listen to it/you later when I donât have a snoozing puppy dog beside me. Sheâs an old girl. Her Mum finally gets home on Saturday after a month overseas and sheâs been missing her dreadfully so I want to let her sleep as long as I can. But I will listen, later, and share this time with you again from across the world. Thanks SO much.
Merry Christmas my dear. To you and your dear fellow. All the best for the year ahead. ðĪðĪðððĨ°ðĨ°
Hola , Siempre Es Un Placer Leer Estos Hermosos Relatos , Transmiten Paz , Belleza Y Sobre Todo Esperanza. Me Encanto EstÃĄ Estrofa: Ãste Acto De Silbar A Las CrÃas, Un Intento Torpe Pero Efectivo De Hablar Su Idioma , ProvocÃģ Una AgitaciÃģn En MÃ Que Inicialmente No Pude Etiquetar. Un Saludo.
This one took my breath away. I love your writing Chloe... and I love feeling Davidâs presence in your writing too. Thank you for sharing this with us all. Itâs truly a pleasure to read.
Hi Chloe - I hope you had a very merry holiday. As usual, your words find me at the perfect moment. I was thinking of you today, while on my walk on the River Po. I was trying to befriend a particular crow - who was very handsome - with some biscuits that I pocketed for the very purpose of sharing with bird friends on my walk. Unfortunately, just as he was getting close to hopping to me, after several offerings from me, a biker road by, very fast and noisy and my handsome crow took off, squawking. I didn't blame him. A few minutes later I was waiting at the crosswalk and a crow landed on the streetlamp and started cawing - was this my friend? I was out of biscuits. When I returned to my apartment I pulled an animal spirt card from the Wild Unknown deck (that always travels with me) and it was the crow. Crow magic is strong. Then I remembered I had been saving your email post and sat down to read it. Just wonderful and lovely. A happy Boxing Day by all accounts.
Thank you. Wishing you a joyous day and week.
such a lovely listen & learn, Chloe
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This was such a beautiful surprise to my day. Thank you for sharing your words and heart with us, Chloe. Your voice is so soothing and I think I could listen to you speak to me forever! Your words transported me, and I felt like I was walking beside you the whole way. The snail bit felt close to home, as I always take a moment to apologise and acknowledge what has happened when I feel that sinking feeling after stepping on one by accident. Much love to you!