It’s early February and I hear the woodpeckers tapping daily now on top of the electric poles. Blue tits chase one another in circles around the hedges, looking just like something out of a Disney film. A female blackbird scuffles with a male beneath the bird feeder and succeeds in chasing him off. A wren seems to have found its way into the little nest that sits atop the outdoor light at my front door.
And as I sit and write by the fire in the living room, a robin is nestled amongst the first green buds of the honeysuckle, his head tilted to one side as he eyes me curiously.
I was struck, when I first moved here, by the abundance of wildlife. It is a place more alive with birds and insects than any other place I have lived. In comparison to what I have known, it is a thriving, magical place.
Last summer, one of my neighbours, Tony, an 86 year old man, invited me to walk through his garden with him. Tony is known locally as ‘Tony the owl man’ on account of his lifelong obsession with and career in owl conservation. Until recently, when a series of health issues slowed him right down, he would go out each night to feed the owls, making sure they had what they needed to survive and thrive.
As we made our way back towards the house from the forested area at the bottom of the garden, I cooed at a few beautiful butterflies.
“Oh yes”, said Tony. “But it is the middle of summer and there should be butterflies everywhere.”
I listened with tears in my eyes as he told me about the lists he keeps of the birds, insects and other wildlife he sees each year. Each year, the list gets shorter. Every year, more and more disappears.
Tony knew a world I have never known. He knew a world that was filled with butterflies during the spring and summer months. It is the same world my father knew as a boy when he would see the lapwings swooping and diving above the fields.
What looks like a magical, thriving place to me must look to Tony and my father like a much diminished place, though I am certain they still see and feel the wonder of what is there. And as I sit and recall and write this story, I wonder where this ends.
How will the world my young nieces know differ to the world I know? Will it be much diminished again? And if it is, will there be enough left so that to them it may still appear as magical and thriving in certain places? Or will it be so desolate and empty that there is no trace of magic left?
Yet the stories of those who have lived before us that tell of the world as it once was, have the power to awaken a kind of memory within those of us who have not known that world. The stories of our elders offer a vital cord to a world we are on the verge of losing.
If we can listen to those stories and allow the memories of the world they describe to awaken and bloom inside us, then there is a possibility that we can take hold of this cord and dream into being at least some of what has been lost.
Imagining and dreaming, I believe, are key. If we close our eyes, we can imagine ourselves standing by a buddleia bush in mid summer, its leaves and flowers pulsing with the soft beat of a thousand butterfly wings. If we let the image within our hearts move us, it is only natural that our actions must follow to support the manifestation of the dream.
So do not be afraid to close your eyes. Do not be afraid to dream of a thriving, beautiful Earth. To dream these dreams is so important now. As you fall asleep tonight under the watchful eye of the moon, imagine the hundreds of thousands of others across the world dreaming a dream of beauty alongside you and feel within yourself the power of this collective dream.
Hand in hand and shoulder to shoulder we stand. Together we have the power to make real our dreams of a more beautiful world
Love and courage,
Leah
Hello Leah, as usual your post is timely. I’ve been thinking a lot about living in times where species are declining and indeed becoming extinct. It’s so sad and I feel a bit cheated. And also that life has taken a steep downturn since covid, maybe before. As we’ve said, there are many horrible things happening in the world and it’s not easy at the moment. It is hard to not get overwhelmed by the bad stuff. I suppose all we can do is be grateful for the things we do have. We still have many beautiful birds, animals and insects and beautiful places in the world.
Love the photo of the rainbow and the butterfly. Lots of love and big hugs to you. Xxx
Hello Sarah! How lovely to hear from you. It is sad and tragic indeed to be living at a time when so much is disappearing. Somehow, despite the days of overwhelm and despair, I am still full of hope for the future and what is possible. Perhaps this is naive, I don’t know. There are lots of stories of hope and healing to be found, though of course these are not often reported in the mainstream news. Like you say, to be grateful for what is still here is vital – I think this gratitude and love and can spur us on to do what we can in our own small ways to improve things. Lots of love and big hugs to you, too. It is always so comforting to know there are others out there who think about these things. xx