There’s a liminal space in autumn that sits between and beyond the hours and minutes of the clock. Hearts beat a little faster there on bird time.
On bird time it is a scramble for resources, to fatten for the winter and it is done with great joy. Sometimes we find ourselves there. We want to sing and move and dance. If the light hits just right, you might see the tracing of feathers, a shadow of wing.
Sometimes other people call to us from bird time, always with a song. Their song will break your heart. Although feathered, be careful, for there is something of siren song to it. You may want to dive right in. As they have. The task instead is to stay on dry land with them whilst they sing in the sunshine and dry their wings.
As it is on bird time, the healing happens in the liminal spaces. At the breaking of dawn into sunrise, when mother nature buzzes invitingly alive. This is when you follow the heart stones. This is when you burn your sadness in the sun. For others it might be a softer light that heals them. The moon reflected on the water or leaf, candle or fire light. Here, the birds share their time with the bats and the salamanders, with owl, the foxes and sometimes wolf. Careful as you lean in to stroke the silvery coat, you will find it hard not to follow them, when wolf, as wolf’s nature, leaves.