sibling rivalry

25/06/2011

Yesterday I was musing about ducklings and cygnets; today it is the turn of baby quail.

A dear friend of mine has an aviary which is home to some quail, amongst other birds. The quail never bother flying. Instead they reserve their energies for running around on the ground and procreating. Not to put too fine a point on it, they are at it like rabbits.

From this, come many eggs. The fathers take a leaf out of my book and leave the parenting entirely to the mothers. Unfortunately for the would-be chicks, the mothers take a similar stance and don’t bother sitting on the eggs.

Three weeks ago, the lot of the foundling eggs improved markedly, when my friend inherited an incubator. This machine acts as mum, warming and turning the eggs. And it worked: A few days ago 20 or more little chicks emerged.

The chicks are living in a nursery and for the most part thriving. They look cute. And sometimes they behave in a cute way, cuddling up next to each other. But at other times they are anything but friendly. They give each other an occasional peck, perhaps to establish a pecking order, although I have to say, it looks like sheer belligerence. Maybe they are deeply angry with existence for being brought into the world by a machine instead of a warm, fluffy, breathing, living mother.

Whatever the reason for the miniature hen pecking, it reaches its most horrific form in relation to the enfeebled chicks. A few of the little ones don’t look as vital as the rest, lying sprawled out as the others run around, often right over them as if they are doormats. These weaklings are picked on, and pecked at, mercilessly, by their siblings. Most of the unfortunate ones have now died, leaving 15 chicks of which two are still being harassed for their imperfections.

Today the bullying went a step further, or rather, several steps back: One of the weaklings, affectionately known as Splat, is perfectly healthy except that his legs stick out horizontally, permanently in the splits, rather than holding him aloft. Splat gets around with a sort of swimming motion. It is a struggle but eventually he gets where he wants to go. This afternoon, watching Splat wriggle and worm his way over to some food, I was appalled to see one of his siblings stride over, grab him by taking one of his outstretched feet in the beak, and run several paces backwards, dragging the hapless Splat away from the food.

It would seem that we humans are not the only ones in need of primal therapy and family constellations!

the ugly duckling

24/06/2011

Walking by the canal today, I was met by an exceptionally elegant couple coming the other way, dressed all in white. They moved serenely, gliding along with apparently no effort at all. They were majestic. They were swans.

The swans reminded me of Hans Christian Andersen’s tale, The Ugly Duckling. This story has been translated into many languages, so you have almost certainly come across it. In case you haven’t, here is the gist of the story:

A brood of ducklings hatch but one of them seems rather ugly compared to the rest. The ugly duckling is teased and ostracised and leaves the family to spend many months living a hard life alone. Eventually he sees some beautiful swans and goes to meet them, even though he fears that they might kill him. However the swans greet him openly and, seeing his own reflection in the water, he realises that he, too, is a beautiful swan.

Hans Christian Andersen said that this tale was about his own life, and it does not surprise me. Indeed, this tale is more-or-less the story of every spiritual journey. Dwell on it deeply enough and each of us is bound to realise that we are also beautiful swans.

My only hesitation about the story is that in the end, the ugly duckling realises his magnificence through comparison with the other swans. Spiritual awakening, on the other hand, comes when we realise our true nature without any comparison at all.

happy summer solstice!

22/06/2011

Today is the summer solstice, the day of the year with the longest hours of daylight, and those in England of a pagan heart are celebrating at ancient sites such as Stonehenge.

Of course, in the southern hemisphere it is the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, so my comments cannot claim to be global. I can justify my blatant northerly bias in two ways:

Firstly, I find myself north of the equator today, so it feels natural to write from this perspective. How often, though, do we overlook the fact that our thoughts and feelings are conditioned by our viewpoint, our perspective! Then we cause all sorts of trouble, assuming our opinions to be of an absolute nature when they are actually relative. We so easily forget that our standpoint is no more, or less, valid than anyone else’s.

Secondly, by far the majority of the human population live in the northern hemisphere, so if I have to pick one hemisphere to address, I guess it might as well be the north. (Actually, in most situations I find my emotional response tending to side with minorities, with the underdog. I am a rebel at heart!)

There is a simple reason why many more people live north of the equator than south of it. Most of the land is in the north. But once again I notice that my perspective is relative. If most of the land is in the north, then most of the ocean is in the south. So my northerly bias is coming from the perspective of a land-dwelling being. If I lived in the ocean, I would probably be singing a very different song.

So to the whales and dolphins out there, and to any other beings who find themselves in the south, I greet you with a heartfelt “Happy winter solstice!”

when the sun shines

20/05/2011

The sun is shining this morning, after a few days of grey skies. And I feel happy. It never ceases to amaze me just how dependent my mood is on the weather. When it is cloudy and grey, I feel subdued; When it is sunny, I feel joyful.

It is more-or-less that simple. It doesn’t much matter what else is happening in my life; whether I am enjoying the intimate company of a lover or spending time alone; whether I am living it up in a luxury hotel or dossing on a park bench; whether I am busying myself with a project or indulging in non-doing; with all these things I can be thoroughly content.

When it comes to the weather, though, my mood is at the mercy of the elements. It is not that happiness only comes when the sun is shining: I can thoroughly enjoy a wild thunderstorm; strong winds I find invigorating; heavy snow is delightful; a torrential downpour is cleansing. No, it is only the dull, grey, overcast skies which subdue my spirit.

But today the sun is shining!

the horizontal stripes tribe

16/05/2011

This year, horizontal stripes are in.

Fashion seems a rather ridiculous phenomenon to me.

I can understand that before liberation, which frees one to be oneself, there can be a psychological need to be part of a group, to feel the security of being amongst the herd. From that, it follows that a uniform can help define the herd, the tribe. So, I should not be surprised if people like to wear similar clothing.

What is more strange is that the uniform is always changing. This year’s fashion is not the same as last year’s. Of course, there are excellent commercial reasons for everybody having to buy a new set of clothes every season. The clothing industry would be a fraction of its current size if the uniform were not subject to the changeability of fashion.

Why do we fall for the industry led requirement to change our clothes? Perhaps we are also looking for a newness; getting bored and feeling stale if things don’t change. We can feel reborn every season, merely by donning a fresh raiment.

And it’s so much easier to change the superficial facade of our clothing than to change anything deeper in our being...

he or she?

02/05/2011

Is god male or female? The big monotheistic religions use male language: god is He, not She.

Of course, god is beyond sex, or rather, before sex. He or She is not of the dualistic world. The English language, though, does not leave us many options. God could be an ‘It’, which would probably be the most accurate word to use. Can we revere It though? Can we feel the sublime beauty in It? Can we worship It? Can we surrender to It?

No, it seems we have to perceive god somewhat in our own image. Even if we don’t go as far as an old man with a big grey beard, sitting in the clouds, still we seem to need to think of god as having some rather human characteristics. Are those characteristics those of a father? Or are they more those of a mother?

Many feel god as a protector and and as a mentor, someone to turn to in times of need, for guidance, for spiritual assistance. These attributes could be seen as masculine, the protection of a virile young man combined with the wisdom of an old man. But since when has wisdom been restricted to men? And which mother does not protect her children?

My feeling is that, if god has to be addressed as He or She, then She is the more appropriate term. For is it not in the womb of She that we have come into being? Indeed, do we not actually abide there now, even whilst we feel ourselves to be walking freely on this beautiful Earth? Are we not nourished throughout our life, by an umbilical cord that is never cut? Is not our very lifeblood infused with Her goodness, in the great placenta from which life itself flows?

glory be!

30/04/2011

I have just been for a walk through some of the fields surrounding the village of Cumnor, here in Oxfordshire. The sun is shining and a gentle breeze is blowing. Walking in this gentle landscape, fertile in its spring season, the feeling that all is well in the world came to me...

How sad it is when we lose that feeling, the feeling that all is well. And how easily we allow it to be crushed, by watching the endless stream of negative news on television and reading the same ugliness in the newspapers.

Here is the news from the footpaths around Cumnor today: The crops are growing healthily. The trees are alive with fresh new leaves. The human beings are, without exception, smiling and saying hello in a friendly way. The birds are chirping exceedingly merrily. The neighbour’s cat, though, did look rather guilty when I came round the corner, so it might have been up to no good. Apart from that, everything is lovely.

And this loveliness is not a neutral thing. It is more than just the absence of negativity. It is glorious. Watching the verdant leaves fluttering in the wind, the thoughts subside and give way to the feeling: Glory be!