Three Goldfinches
Nothing is Actually Ordinary - One Inch Photos
First, before today’s post….Just a reminder if you live in the Chicago Region. I’ll be at The Old Town School of Folk Music tonight, September 29, 2024 7pm, with Gary Walters and a full String Quartet. https://www.oldtownschool.org/concerts/2024/09-29-2024-carrie-newcomer/
In the language of poetry, where every word is weighed, nothing is usual or normal. Not a single stone and not a single cloud above it. Not a single day and not a single night after it. And above all, not a single existence, not anyone’s existence in this world. - Wisława Szymborska
Several years ago, I remember biking down a quiet back road. It was September when in this part of the country the air finally removes from its shoulders the summer’s heavy blanket of thick humidity. It was the time of year when gardens get leggy and brown and the world begins to dry out at the edges like the soybeans and feed corn just before harvest. It was the time of year when the hay fields have been gathered into spirals, looking like herds of gentle creatures grazing in the evening light, each one taller than a tall man’s head and shoulders. It was the time of year when the farm stands are laden with pumpkins, squash and bright colored mums. It was that time of year right before the tiny hummingbirds start their impossibly long journey south and the last woodthrush calls from the deep woods near my home.
It was also a day when I was lost in my own thoughts. I had the nuances of a tough conversation on spin cycle, rinse, regret, rewind and repeat, going over all I should have said or done had I’d known what was coming. I was so lost in my own head that day, I don’t actually remember most of the ride.
Then something happened. Three perfect goldfinches that were glowing like liquid amber, flew across my path so close I could feel the movement of their wings just beyond the end of my nose as they passed by. I was so startled I nearly dumped my bike in the ditch along the road. When I recovered my balance I took a deep breath and realized that I was back in the real world in real time, totally present in the midst of wonder. I wanted to bow to the three birds that were now dissolving into the woods across the field. I wanted to weep in gratitude, stop my bike and kiss the ground. I began to grin and laugh and really look around, finally noticing the rarified glory of a country road on an autumn day when the evening light was falling like sparkling coins on spirals of hay.
It is so easy to get busy or distracted or lost in our concerns. It is easy to forget that there is no such thing as an ordinary moment when our lives are ever so brief, beginning and ending from mystery to mystery. And so I am grateful when something luminous in the world smacks me right into the here and now with something glorious, extraordinary and shining.
On a day when I was lost, three perfect goldfinches flew across my path and I was never the same. Daily life is filled with such things - nothing is actually ordinary, not the bike or the road or the field or the autumn light. It is all here, waiting for us to notice.
Question
Have you ever had a “three golden finches“ moment? Tells us about it.
In the Hayfield
Last evening,
As I drove into this small valley,
I saw a low-hanging cloud
Wandering through the trees.
It circled like a school of fish
Around the dun-colored hay bales.
Reaching out its foggy hands
To stroke the legs of a perfect doe
Quietly grazing in a neighbor's mule pasture.
I stopped the car
And stepping out into the blue twilight,
A wet mist brushed my face,
And then it was gone.
It was not unfriendly,
But it was not inclined to tell its secrets.
I am in love with the untamed things,
The cloud, the doe,
Water, air and light.
I am filled with such tenderness
For ordinary things:
The practical mule, the pasture,
A perfect spiral of gathered hay.
And although I should not be,
Consistent as it is,
I am always surprised
By the way my heart will open
So completely and unexpectedly,
With a rush and an ache,
Like a sip of cold water
On a tender tooth.
By Carrie Newcomer
From A Permeable Life: Poems & EssaysThis is a song called “Every Little Bit of It”.
Upcoming Concerts & Retreats This Season
For tickets and more information about shows visit my website tour page at www.carrienewcomer.com/tour
One Inch Photos
It was an early morning walk one misty moisty morning along a gravel country road. Out of the mist ahead 3 ghostly figures emerged, ambling across the road. The silence was complete. I stood quiety watching the graceful movement as the deer gently disappeared into the mist. A holy moment.
My goldfinch moment happened this morning. Your story, Carrie, is a signpost for my life which lately seems to be on that distracted wash, rinse, repeat cycle you so aptly described! Thank you❤️🙏. I wrote this in my journal just a few minutes ago:
I know I am known,
but I don’t know
where I am.
I take small steps into life,
and live counting questions,
seeking and not seeking answers-
to seek or not to seek-
is that the question?
I turn my face,
I look out the window
to the growing light,
to the faded flowers,
to the one drop of last night’s rain
sparkling in the shifting space between leaves,
to the change of seasons,
and I whisper, “Welcome.”