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Robin Redux

That robin is back again this Spring…building her nest in the low bush outside my window.  She may not remember…but I do…that Spring some years ago when we went down this road together before. She was more than herself to me that year…that nest more than her own: she was a symbol of my optimism, the manifestation of my belief I could pray or will things to be so.  Anyway, we were partners in productive joy that year…both…anticipating….expecting…on the cusp of Dreams.  I should remind her that it ended badly for both of shells scattered on the ground…hearts broken.  But she’s back and darn busy out there..seemingly no time or interest to listen.

The window is in a part of the house I can avoid. Part of me wants to do just that. I don’t want to take her on again. I don’t want to take ME on again. I want to quote Teasdale to her…the mantra that came to signify that April to me…

“It was a Spring that never came….but we have lived enough to know

That WHAT WE NEVER HAVE…remains.

It is the things we HAVE…that go.”

Hey, Robin!  Yeah, you!

She’s too busy…not listening…or ignoring me.

I want to tell her what I’ve learned in the years since our last team effort.

I’ve learned  that we can spend so much time tending to our Dreams…to every green shoot and beginning bud…that Real Days get lost in the process. Real Days that have a beauty, purpose, joy…just in and of their average self. I’ve learned Dreams can become so tangled and overgrown that we can no longer see the real people we love whom they obscure.  I’ve learned that decaying old dreams can become Fears.   Those fears can grow and  thicken and mat until no new sunlight can get in.

And I’ve learned disposing of dead, old dreams is a arduous and  painful effort.

I know all that now. I’d like to tell her all that if she would take a minute off from hauling twigs into that bush.

That bush is too low.

I  may be wiser  these years later but evidently she is not. She’s learned nothing.

Listen here…I tap my advice on the window…once you uproot, and burn, and clear out the Old Dreams…everything looks so wide open and fresh. Suddenly you might see new opportunities…like high up in those treetops. You start to see each day as a DAY…to be filled in a myriad of satisfying ways. You see Love over there where it already exists. You find Joy in the brief moment. And as the poet says, you embrace…”Splendor in the grass; glory in the flower.”

Give it up already. I don’t want to go through this with you again. Take your low-hanging, perilous nest elsewhere.

But my Robin resists my advice. Persists in her endeavor.Twig after twig, intent on her effort, invested in her new dream.

Maybe she’s replying in her own way.  A gentle rebuke.

Don’t stop dreaming altogether.

Keep working.

Keep “building.”

Have faith.

With a sigh, I take my teacup and my protective heart to another room.

We’ll see….

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