"A dazzling dare to perch up there–
a slender-branched moxie, swaying
in wind whips, impervious, curtailing
nothing on land or in tremulous air.
You sail the maple's masthead,
You scout the rolling hills, apprise the skies,
and you descend at will; no seeming dread
your reconnoiter with the earth, no surprise
amid your daily ups and downs. At dusk
you ride the coming dark, the stars
ablaze in night's broad bowl above.
Defying rain and ice, astride that leafy husk
you grip–pendulous–crepuscular,
no steering by our blinking lights; you simply hover."

~Deborah Carlin

Now that the trees are bare, stripped of their leaves by the winter wind, I have become aware of the squirrel nests that dot the branches. All along our street the nests perch precariously high in the trees. The nests are not visible when the trees are full of leaves. But now, there they are, resting between branches once full of green life, their cocoon of leaves and twigs and who know what else forming a home, a place to rest, give birth and grow.

I can't imagine what a squirrel thinks but from a human perspective it seems to me that building a nest closer to the center of the tree makes more sense, is much safer. Why does the nest need to be so high, out on such a thin limb? And yet, haven't we all built our homes sometimes in some very difficult and dangerous places? Haven't we chosen to rest and grow in places where their is great opportunity and yet great peril? It is the choice of adventurers and seekers to go to the edge, to seek the opportunity to grow in ways new ways. Perhaps it is the practice of going back and forth to their nests that allows squirrels to run across the telephone lines with the skill of an acrobat, never falling, always a straight shot from point A to point B.

Where we build our nests can help us grow or challenge us to new feats of adventure. Where we build our nests can instill courage and daring or invite us to leap with faith. I once had a card hanging on my office door that read "Leap…..and the net will appear." That must be the mantra of squirrels and all those who build their nests on limbs that seem fragile to the outsider. 

Where are you building your nest these winter days? Is your life calling you to build higher, go out on a limb so to speak, take the contents of your nest to the edge? Or are you carrying the materials you need, comfort perhaps,to a safer place to hunker down against the winter wind near the sturdy trunk of the tree and be present in a quieter more contemplative way? The good news is that life calls for both.