The birdsong in my head

This morning I woke to a vague distant screaming.

Living on the countryside with animals including a minor gang of puppies-going-on-hooligans this can mean nothing but bad news aka someone is stuck, gotten lost somewhere or somehow hurt themselves…

It is a second to none wake-up and your whole body is on 100% alert!

What is going on? What is happening? Who is in pain? Where?

After another second of orientating myself I could conclude this was outdoors and not indoors.

It was on the back of the house and not the front where the puppies normally is.

Most dogs where indoors – read around my bed – so this was probably not a dog, or at least not any of mine.

Could be a rat maybe? Or kitten?

As I started to go over this list of possibilities in my head I tried to listen again and listen more carefully this time.

It didn’t sound bad now. Matter of fact it sound quite happy. Happy? Yes, like a little melody type. No panic noise.

Still lying down it occurs  to me that this is birdsong.

Yes, exactly – birdsong.

I laugh at myself (thank God I can still do that) – how fear driven am I when I am ready to jump out of bed in a nano second prepared for worse case scenario? Convinced someone is dying or is already dead?

There is this gentle little bird sitting in the fruit tree opposite my window. Singing his little song while the sun is just about over the mountains yet.

Just doing his thing.

And this is my thing?

Breathing deeply I try to tell myself that at least I am aware now. I can’t always stop it from happening, but when it does I am stopping myself and reflecting instead.

The world is safe. It supports me even?

I imagine a chair supporting me sitting up.

I imagine food.

I imagine a bird singing to wake me up to a new day.

All is well. 314 signals to go.

Image courtesy to Panuruangjan at


Trusting the process

I never thought much about the throwing up, so why about the crying?…

Lately I have been putting a lot of effort on a particular part of my work. To the level that yesterday I felt like I was going to cry because I couldn’t come up with anything more I possibly could do…

Then a tiny voice reminded me not to rely everything on myself.

Walk away. Take a walk literally. Trust your efforts.

Anxiety left, but now I sit here again staring at it like some new planted seeds, which hasn’t started to show up yet. Like I could speed up the processes by keeping looking at it.

Now it is time to let the process process. The cake to bake. The seed  to crack and grow – by itself.

So what do you do when the cake is in the oven? When the tree is nurturing its fruit? The baby growing?

Take care of myself. Keep busy with something else. Intentionally distract myself if need be. Enjoying the down time.


I assume crying like that is the same as when you run a race and throw up in the end. You give it your all and a bit more. Completely turning yourself inside out…

I never thought much about the throwing up, so why about the crying?

It is just telling me I did gave it my all – just as I set out to do – and that is all I can do.

Now it is time to move on. Do the – next – right – thing.

I’m fine. All is well. I am on my way. 340 signals to go.

Image courtesy of Sura Nualpradid  at