I looked out the window this morning and saw the birds and the squirrels feeding at the feeder and in the garden. The Robin was yanking worms from the worked earth; twisting its head at an angle which allowed it to hear the worm crawling underneath and then, snap, in a flash ripped it from its home below. The Blue jay pecked at the cracked corn and scattered the Sparrows, chasing them into a flight of swirling, frustrated confusion that ended in seconds as they descended again in another attempt to claim the seed as their own. The Grackles and the Cardinals come about as they please, no one messes with them. The Doves sing their song and perch, patience is their game and their movement slow, graceful and accurate; their intent is deliberate. The Finches, gold and red, come for their meal. Three golden ones sit on the wire above assessing the environment, waiting for the good stuff; the sunflowers that will soon be sprouting and offering fresh, convenient and safe shelter for them while they feed. The red Finches, at least I think they’re Finches, pop in and out like the sparrows; they blend well with the sparrows and if it wasn’t for the reddish/brown heads, breast and wings they would easily be mistaken for their active, flighty little counterparts. The Starlings, now there’s an amazing bird. They come in mobs and swoop in turn while the others keep watch. If there are enough of them to keep a sharp eye there could be a profuse amount of them on the ground, selecting pieces of bread that they will hold onto in flight so that they can consume it at their leisure elsewhere. The squirrels are the oddest bunch; each has a personality that reflects just how individual they can be. One climbs the fence and has learned how to remove the lid of the feeder so that he can crawl inside it and eat to his heart’s content. I’ve given in and permanently allowed the lid to stay off; it’s easier than replacing it several times a day. Another one works his way back and forth from the feeder to the potted plants where he’ll sit up on his hind legs and munch; sometimes he buries the food in the planters for later. The third squirrel is my favorite, he lies down to eat, so relaxed and kicked back. I’ve never seen a squirrel so tranquil. Like a dog that stretches his back legs out behind him, the squirrel makes full use of his body length, spreading himself from extended front paws to extended back paws while he consumes sunflower seeds to his ultimate delight. All of this I watch, I see, and I absorb. The natural aspect of life, the indifferent methods of each creature, each species reflects mankind; I can see it. In every varying moment of voyeuristic sensation I feel the creation and the growth of all living beings. I understand the wonderment of the earth, its being and all the moments of non-linear existence that are ingrained in every vibration of life. My soul is thousands of years old and with each morning perfectly new.