It is springtime. I have returned home from half year spent travelling. It is time to reclaim the house from the woodland creatures. A flicker comes every morning and drills at my corner of the building. Deer are in the garden. The robin comes as sure as Solomon’s Seal and pecks at my window.
This robin sits on the sill, its head turned and one eye gazing in. All he can see is himself in the glass. He sees himself as.a reflection of another bird. Threatened somehow by its own glass-image, it pecks the vision, flies up, flies in and pecks again. What does that bird hold inside itself that is so tormenting that it repeats this over and over again?
Sometimes that robin scares me. I’ll be calming reading, entrenched in words and bam. The bird flies into the window again. Makes me jump, startled, annoyed. How can it be so tormented. To be so tormented by yourself that you rise up and keep hitting the hard cold reality of a window.
what nature is this
absorbed completely in self
far removed from God