Bird Watching is more fun than I Remember

Theres something truly fascinating about bird watching as if any of us are really out here with spare time tucked neatly into our back pockets, ready to just slow down, look up, and notice things.

And yet

there he is.

This tiny, redbreasted nuthatch, completely unbothered by my existential crisis, my to do list, my need to feel like I’m doing something important.

He’s just.. chiseling away at a tree. One microscopic fleck of bark at a time. No rush, no applause, no five year plan.

And as i watch for a moment, I stand there thinking, wow. The determination. The patience. The absolute refusal to spiral into overthinking because it never even crosses his mind that there could be another way. No backup plan or identity crisis. No late night Google searches like, “Am I building my life wrong?” Just instinct and showing up. And then I realize, what once felt like the most boring thing in the world becomes.. meaningful.

I get it now.

Because here I am, a human being with options. Endless, overwhelming, sometimes paralyzing options. And I forget what a privilege that is. To choose, and have the ability to pivot, and rebuild; To start over even when I swore I wouldn’t have to.

You’d never know how far away he really was. How much space existed between us. Technology closes the gap so convincingly, it almost feels like connection. But in real life, he’s still out there doing his small, steady work without needing to be seen up close.

And maybe that’s the lesson i needed in the moment.

That life doesn’t have to be loud to be meaningful. That progress can look like barely noticeable effort stacked over time. That sometimes the most profound moments aren’t the ones we chase, but the ones we almost missed because we were too busy being busy.

And somehow, in the middle of everything

and nothing at all, I realize, what a strange, beautiful thing it is to be alive.

Even on the days we don’t quite feel it