There are people I know who are described as ‘hummingbirds’. These are folks who have the ability to flit from one thing to another, always on the move, sometimes accomplishing many things in the course of a day. Their constant motion can make those of us who have a slower movement in the world feel as if we are laggards, sitting as we do trying to squeeze in the last paragraph of a book we are savoring, putting off till tomorrow what could be completed in the day, in the next moment, breathing at a different, slower pace. 

Hummingbirds. Over the last few days I have had the blessed privilege to be present to hummingbirds. Their rapid beating wings. Their flight passing by my head with a surprisingly loud sound for such a tiny creature. Their constant motion as they suck sweet nectar from the feeders of admirers. Have you ever tried to photograph a hummingbird? It takes a finer camera than my iPhone but still I try with limited success. 

Weighing in at 2.7-3 grams, the Ruby-throated Hummingbird is about the weight of a penny. Its wings move 70-80 times per second…per second! When in love…or at least mating…they can flap their wings up to 200 times per second. Wow! What a seducing tactic! And some species of hummingbirds can live up to 12 years though most live only 4-6 years. Considering their size, their very fragile size in this big world, this seems miraculous.

Observing these beautiful birds as I did I became aware of how we are invited every day to be present to those beings that travel the planet with us. Most of the time I am focused on the two legged, those that walk upright on the ground. I have things to say to them and tasks to complete with them, things to give and receive from them. But allowing my eyes to simply hold the fluttering wings of these fellow Earth inhabitants made my days fuller, richer. We were existing here…at the same time…on this amazing planet. Their work was to move quickly, storing up as much energy as they needed to be able to fly so furiously. My work was to watch, to love their frantic beauty, and to allow gratitude to rise in my throat like tears.

Of course, the words of Mary Oliver rose up from some stored place in my memory:
My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird—
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.

A new week is beginning. The opportunity is before us to be astonished. This mind and heart and ‘body-clothes’ filled life is waiting to see the large and the small. Like the hummingbird calling to us to notice and rejoice.