The Healing Presence of Hummingbirds

 I am delighted to participate in a conversation tomorrow night as a part of the Port Jefferson Documentary Series. The film celebrates the work of Terry Masear, a rather magical woman who takes care of injured hummingbirds. When I received a call from the organizers of the series, I knew immediately that I needed to attend and participate. My friends Patricia Paladines and Dr. Carl Safina will also be attending. I will be sharing some of my hummingbird images taken over the years.

I feel that there is a curious symbiosis between Terry's experiences and one of my own.

During my recovery from Lyme disease, I had the most extraordinary visitor here for over five months. A rufous hummingbird found her way into my garden and wintered over. Her presence was kept quiet, outside of a few friends, neighbours, and patients. I wanted to protect her from over exposure. She was fed warm nectar during the winter months, and survived every possible weather challenge. She ate ants and caught gnats in the air while constantly drinking from several feeders that were maintained to keep her alive.

When she arrived in the garden, I was so stunned and excited to have her here. It was as if the heavens had delivered a little angel that was assisting in my personal healing. Two weeks into her stay in the autumn of 2023, I remember feeling that I really needed her presence in my world and in my life. My immune system had been compromised by tick born infections and while I was undergoing treatment, I often felt confused, overwhelmed and disoriented by what was happening in my body. The process of navigating my situation often left me feeling lost. Her healing presence gave me a novel focus and distraction from the battles of my internal terrains. 

Over the course of her stay she remained close to the front door of my office in the shelter of a large Rhododendron tree. When the wind was howling from the Northeast and the cold temperatures plummeted, she sought refuge in boxwoods. All the while I was aware that this was a once in a lifetime experience. She stayed perched, facing the sun and welcoming my patients into my healing space. We all observed in wonder, awe and delight. During my most challenging days, I felt as though a guardian angel    had descended from the heavens and offered me divine support. 

During her winter stay, I took hundreds upon hundreds of pictures of her. In this Spring collage, I am including a little image of her with witch hazel, pear flowers, one of my watercolours, a shadow, and promises of colourful flowers. She offered me a ray of hope and feeling of new possibilities and healing. I believe that she also gave my patients a sense of being in the presence of a unique and rare gift. 

When I saw the film about Terry, I found it curious that she was helping injured hummingbirds heal in Los Angeles, while in my neck of the woods on the East End of Long Island, a single hummingbird was helping me and my patients heal. My private practice focuses on nervous system regulation and trauma work. We were tending to the trauma vortex but through different perspectives and portals.

We all debated how long she would stay in Springs and what she might do when the weather warmed and flowers bloomed. One day, I began to notice her gorget begin to turn copper. My feeling was that her departure was imminent. From everything that I read, this juvenile would seek her natural breeding ground and most likely return to the West Coast. One day, she did leave. I had the felt sense that she would fly away and leave because the air was warming and the sun feeling bright. While our time together was limited, she gave me so much and I am deeply grateful. I am most thankful for the opportunity to spend hours and hours alone with her and observe her behaviour. She taught me so much about rufous hummingbirds and about how to be with her in a respectful way. 

My hope is that the more Terry's work and story is shared, the more we can respect and take care of the environments that shelter, protect and support wildlife. Please join us in this beautiful exploration of the relationship between humans and hummingbirds. 

Thank you Kelly Devine and Barbara Sverd for including me in this lovely opportunity to be in the company of like minded people and good friends. 

For the Love of Botany

   I am back to the drawing board of botanical art and all of the detailed nuances of creating in this modality. It began with a strong handmade leather bound book of beautiful hot press paper. Each week I make entries, based on what I see in the garden, on my walks or from the ocean and bay beaches. It has been a serious and committed act of self care, ritual and discipline. I began the first week of March 2024. During a long and arduous battle with Lyme disease and co-infections of Babesia and Erlichiosis, my body has craved simple and kind goodness from every facet of life. In June, it will be two years since I have been fighting the good fight. My immune system went into shock and required care and deep rest. It has been a journey. As anyone who has experienced these diseases, parts of us go into what I describe as the underworld. We are held hostage by the immediate needs or our immunity as we fight internal battles in terrain that we did not even know existed in our bodies.  

Core memories of comfort, kindness and safety have kept my internal compass orienting towards healing and recovery. My earliest memories of my life include color, in the form of pencils, paper and the smells of the beautiful colors in the forms of wax crayons and paints of all kinds. My mother was an artist, and so in my healing from two simultaneous tick bites my nervous system has craved the old, the familiar and the beauty of art. 

I have explored pen and pencil, watercolours and studied the masters. I have revisited art history books, early artwork of plants and religious art, prior botanical art classes, and the mysterious journeys of botanists who traveled the globe to document plants from far away places. 

In this post are just a few examples of the drawings and little paintings that I have been creating in the past year. I have followed and explored brilliant artists, made new friends and met new teachers. Botany has been a light in my life and each small inspired moment has doubled as a drop of healing energy. 

I am grateful to Lara for taking me on as a student again, Giacomina for her inspiration and encouragement, Bianca for helping me find just the right chair to support me during the hours of painting and drawing at my table. I am grateful for Christopher who helped me create the perfect workspace and found the perfect specimens, to Bob and Carol who always say that everything I make is beautiful, and to all of my friends and family worldwide who have been kind, supportive and generous in their sharing of information and good wishes.

I am also grateful for all of the talent that is in the world making it a better and more beautiful place. While the world churns and re-organizes on a daily basis, having botanical resources, and beauty in my surroundings have made a meaningful difference in my recovery. 

I am also so deeply grateful for the birds who winter over, the hummingbirds and the magical subtle rhythms of nature. During my hours of drawing and painting, I have surrendered to rhythms that I sometimes missed before becoming ill. I have trusted that my body will heal the ravages of Lyme disease and I do believe that with time and good healing, we can return to a new level of wholeness and wisdom.

Fire and Water

 In Chinese medicine we often see shock trauma as a separation of the elements of Fire and Water. During this distancing, the two elements we are often left feeling lost, dissociated and disconnected from our authentic selves. The ideal outcome in such an instance is to have immediate support and resources to be able to come back into regulation and for Fire and Water to become more integrated so that they may fall  into their natural rhythm. 

When this rhythm is re-established in the body, we are more inclined to find relationships with the other elements of Earth, Metal and Wood. 

The five elements create an intricate and meaningful web of ebbs and flows of energy through the organs, meridians and inner channels. There are multiple layers of information that are all reliant on the smooth flow of consistent Qi and Blood. When shock energy meets our physiology, these micro currents and reserves can be disrupted and injured. Staying cognisant of these possible disruptions is important because if we are aware that we are in a state of disregualtion, then we can lean into repair and resourcing to come back into more balance and ultimately health.

As our planet alternates between the surprising excesses and deficiencies of both Fire and Water, it feels as though the shock of the pandemic coupled with changing weather patterns are weighing on our physiologies. Sometimes I see these stresses as subtle and sometimes they are more profound and obvious. We have all experienced so much in such a short period of time. I have noticed that the allostatic load of so many changes are creating profound shifts in myself and the people that I support in my practice. We are all navigating the new terrains that the pandemic and weather changes have imprinted upon us. Many of us are living each day with some level of hyper-vigilance as we take in the ongoing reports of pockets of transitions around the planet.

I wonder what might unfold if we were able to lean into more awareness of Fire and Water within our own bodies and see what the possibilities might be as we fine tune our capacities to self regulate, and therefore find our internal compasses that illuminate our paths back to safety, balance and coherence. 

   In these moments of transition, I am acutely aware of the delicate and profound relationship between Fire and Water in my immediate world. I have been keen on photographing different colours of reds, blues and of water. I feel the juxtaposition of the heavy humid days on my skin and bright hot sunlight. Early morning outings have felt like adventurous walks through watery waves of sagging clouds and dripping damp leaves.

I am including images that I have taken in the past few months, during hot and steamy days, between dramatic rain storms filled with lightning and ground shaking thunder and news of seismic changes in the natural world. I want to witness it all, take it in and be present for the profound changes. It is not always easy to experience these shifts but my intention is to move through it all, while keeping the engagement of Fire and Water in check within my own nervous system.

The Magnificent Great Crested Fly Catchers (Myiarchus crinitus)

    The elusive fly catchers are feverishly feeding the chicks that reside in an older blue wooden bird house. The handmade structure is covered by a mature hydrangea and is tucked away in under a tall magnolia tree. Over the years there have been various residents who made this little wooden sanctuary their home, but this year, it has been a treat to see the flycatchers come and go, perch on the magnolia branches and bring back dragonflies, crickets and other insects for their clutch. The male and female work with incredible precision, elegance and have a remarkable cadence. I love their distinct calls and their chartreuse feathers. I also love that they can catch such large flying insects and bring them back to the nest in their beaks with such speed and accuracy. 

The female flies away just as the male arrives with the transparent wings peeking out of its beak. They also eat wasps, spiders, seeds and berries. The garden is filled with all of their delights.

    The colors of their feathers range from light and dark grey to subtle shades of dark and olive yellow. When they fly, they reveal a very beautiful belly that is round and fluffy. The colors of the feathers are almost tropical yet they camouflage so beautifully in this wooded environment. The first time that I saw one here, it was perched on the holly eating berries. I was curious as to its size and its song. It bounced up and down as it ate the berries and protectively gathered its bounty and flew away.

They are not typical back yard birds. They generally live near open fields and woodlands and migrate from the south, as far away as the Yucatan in Mexico. They are often found in nests off the ground, in forests and near water. They may also build a nest in a hollowed out or fallen tree near moist earth. 

The chicks must be ready to fledge very soon. I am imagining that they are well fed and just about ready to greet the garden and the deep shades of the nearby woods. 

They have been safely hidden for weeks now and as they enter the bigger world, they will blend beautifully with the safety and background of the yellow, green and brown tones of the oak forest. 

The Return of the Hummingbirds

   As the hummingbirds return, the flowers are blooming and expanding with gentleness. This gorgeous male arrived several weeks ago, gracing the garden with his presence. He is always fickle, but curious.

   In this photograph the male (affectionately named Estebanito) is pollinating the raspberries and contributing to the fruits of the season. So grateful for his elusive and colourful presence. The fly catchers are nesting, the cat birds are singing during healing sessions and the fig trees are swelling with green goodness. 

   During these very turbulent and painful times, there are small whispers of regulation and beauty nearby. I do believe that we need to embrace the tiniest kind gestures of sweetness and connection. We have so much healing ahead of us. There is a profound need for a strengthened web of support and goodness. It is my hope that Chinese medicine will deepen the mending of the chaos and inter-generational trauma. In my small corner of the world, we pray that ripples of clarity, integration, regulation and sweetness travel far and wide. I hope that each and every action towards personal and collective healing may count towards the greater good during these unprecedented times.

   Wishing everyone a peaceful and very gentle Summer. 

The Return of the Bluebirds

 With the recent cold spell, the bluebirds retuned. It has been a while since they have been here in the garden. They came for fresh water in the early morning hours of the deep freeze. They appeared each morning for several days in a row at first light. Both males and females arrived, shy and quick. They move in a blink of an eye and fly together in small groups. When one arrives, we can be sure that several will follow. When these images were taken,  they were here for several hours. It was such a thrill to see them travel together and be here for an extended period of time. Please enjoy these special photographs. It is such a rare and special gift to have them here.

          

They have the most incredible blue feathers that glow in the early morning light. Their feathers are also very beautifully photographed under a grey sky.  It felt like a magical presencet. All of these photographs were taken through a window so some of the details were lost but the proximity allowed for me to get some very sweet images of these amazing birds.

 Each and every time that I see them, I am so grateful. They make me feel so happy and full of grace as I witness the sparkle in the flicker of their feathers. It really feels like a blessing from another realm. Each time they come into my path I learn a little more about them. How they like to drink, the relationships that they have with other birds and how curious they are when we lock eyes.

As warmer weather arrives and more of nature's gifts emerge, I welcome more visits from bluebirds and the arrival of the hummingbirds. Wishing everyone a gentle and colourful Spring.

Honouring Moments of Pause

   Slowly, very slowly, I am emerging from a pause. I took time this year to deepen study in Chinese medicine, mind my private practice, read, watch, internalize and observe the changes. There are days that have felt like moments and others like eternities. While I have not written much for the blog, I did continue to take photographs and quell my curiosity of the natural world with my camera. 

   I am including a few collages with some of my favourite images that tell a story about this past year. There are so many images to share as I edit and reconfigure my writings. It occurred to me this past week that so much of my time during the past two years was invested in cultivating safety for myself and for my work. When we feel safe, we can then down regulate, be curious and find breath. There have been days where the breath has been short, shallow and brief. The work has been to find the depth of the breaths where the air can sometimes feel trapped or held. It is during these levels of activation, I have felt the importance and necessity of honouring moments of pause. Taking photographs, especially of my hummingbirds, asks for stillness and focus on slow exhales.  I never use a tripod so it is always an act of meditation to keep a still hand.

   There were moments with peeper frogs, a luna moth, mimosa flowers, and countless hours with a new generation of hummingbird visitors. As the world has turned in so many directions I am eternally grateful for the presence of the small details of shimmering beauty that reside in the woods, the air and the earth.

  

 It is my hope that some of these images will spark curiosity and deep refreshing breaths as we enter the new year. One of my favorite images was taken this autumn of a passion flower vine that grew with such vitality that it climbed up the side of my home and drooped over a doorway. It gave the garden the feeling of something very romantic and old. The vines were curled, woven, knotted, stuck and integrated with the shingles and rooftop. Each time that I walked out the door, I was reminded to stay the course, and to follow the inspirations that offer glimmers of beauty and passion. This vine has been growing for over a decade. Inside in the winter and outside in the summer. It continues to gently bloom, offering magical green and purple flowers despite the wobble of the world. 

    As I write this post, the owls are singing in the woods. I hear them morning and night, just when the light has a certain dusky tone. I am so deeply grateful for their presence. They remind me that the cycles of nature continue and that we too are part of a circular process of healing and rebirth. They also offer the reminder of a place that still holds a little bit of wildness and raw woodsy beauty. Wishing everyone a new year filed with creativity, curiosity, patience and kindness.