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The real thing

The name Bird-of-Paradise, although originally intended for an exotic bird, is also the popular name of a beautiful flowering plant. After all, the flowers bear a striking resemblance to the bird’s colorful plumage and the shape of its beak. First observed in New Guinea by Europeans in 1522, the bird’s unforgettable appearance spawned myths of having arrived directly from heaven. As a result, the storied fowl became synonymous with power and wealth. Eventually the bird achieved peak status as the National symbol for Papua New Guinea representing freedom and independence.

In contrast, the flower by the same name hails from South Africa, growing wild along the coast and river banks. You might say they are “normal” there. However, in 1773, along came Sir Joseph Banks, a Botanist who recognized the flora as extraordinary, and took the treasured plant back to his home in England, placing his prized specimen in the Royal Botanic Gardens. Due to the striking resemblance between the flower and the bird, the borrowed name “Bird of Paradise” stuck and became the common moniker that followed the exotic plant as it migrated into every warm, frost-free climate around the world.

The incredible Twin

That brings us and our story to one of those warm climates some 250 years later. We were walking in downtown San Diego the other day, as part of our daily routine to a favorite coffee shop. We passed apartments and condos along the way, and by chance, came upon a couple photographing a particular flower (He was apparently the designated photographer while she provided the necessary narrative). There in a flowerbed outside their condo stood one of those gorgeous “bird/plants,” strutting its stuff. We paused to watch as she circled the bloom, swooning and describing its unique qualities. Evidently, what we were looking at was no ordinary “bird-flower.” This one boasted two opposing “beaky things” rather than just one. She declared the anomaly to be a “twin,” and excitedly proclaimed its virtues. This phenomenon of “twin beaks” may or may not be rare, but she was quite taken with it and so we chose to accept her narrative.

For us, this chance encounter with the enamored couple and their flowering Bird was a classic moment where a variety of interesting details came swooping together. A coincidence? A serendipity? Who can say?

In this curious age of AI and “created” reality everywhere we look, we intuitively stopped to briefly connect with real life. We were reminded that there are flashes of sweetness all around us all of the time, we just need to stop and notice. Sometimes we get distracted with “Breaking News,” politics, and world events that are overwhelming. Yet, on a regular Monday morning walk, out of nowhere, various snippets of life from hundreds of years swirled together into a magical encounter. We experienced a heavenly Bird of Paradise that metaphorically flew down and landed at our feet.

Note: The famous Papua New Guinea National Flag with the Golden Bird of Paradise representing freedom and emergence, and the five stars representing the Southern Cross—their proud Pacific location and cooperation with the other Pacific Nations.

Papua New Guinea Flag

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The Unexpected

Today, an unexpected guest arrived at our home. On a beautiful sunny, cloudless June day in San Diego, something amazing happened. Following our lunch on the patio, we left the door wide open to let outside breezes in. Suddenly, there was a fluttering—a shadowy silhouette against the stark white ceiling.

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Recently, I read a post online about nature and the relationship between birds and branches. The pondering was simple. Yet the thoughts went deeper. The pondering/wondering went something like this: When a bird nears a branch, does she anticipate the branch’s ability to hold her or does she land without calculating the branch’s strength, but rather trust her ability to fly?

Trampoline trust

Since reading the post, I’ve been observing birds more closely. The day before yesterday I saw several birds actually using thin branches in a pretty elaborate and playful “dance.” One landed while the others fluttered. A second one landed and the one on the branch immediately  sprang into the air. They resembled trampoline acrobats, engaged in a fascinating synchronized routine. I watched them for several minutes as they continued to create variations of that same pattern. Was it a mating ritual? Was it some form of bird zoomies after the rain? All I can say is that none of the birds seemed concerned about the strength of the branch, even with all of the bouncing. 

Birds trusting the dance

So for me, the post/riddle seems to have been answered. It appeared as if the birds trusted in their ability to land or take flight at just the right moment. Their self-trust allowed them the opportunity to touch and fly, touch and fly. This very practiced routine continued for several minutes. Then suddenly the birds abandoned the swaying branch and flew away. I didn’t see any movement nearby, so I don’t know if they continued their dance on another close-by branch. I pondered their activity and then shifted my focus to humans in relationship with one another. Do we mimic the dance of the birds? Do we decide about whether or not to trust our abilities or do we calculate the strength of the branch? 

At any point in time we could ask ourselves: Am I the bird? Or am I the branch? Is my confidence in myself or do I rely on something to support me? And if I am the branch, who counts on me to be strong enough to hold them? Does holding them keep them from flying or give them a springboard? Is this a mutually beneficial dance we’ve created?

Related Musical Story

Circle of Trust

Circle of Trust: This story is about a relationship of trust for us, that plays out around a campfire instead of on a tree branch. There is a similarity between our flitting exchange of conversation and the playful dance of the birds. Just click the title above to go directly to the story, or have a quick listen-in to the accompanying music below.

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One of our favorite morning walks in California takes us through the gardens of the beautiful Villa Montalvo Center for the Arts. You never know what you might find around each wooded turn because they’re constantly changing the outdoor sculptures, providing that element of surprise. One day we found an artist constructing a fairly large house out of sticks. Another time we came upon a new fortress in the front yard made entirely from stacks of paper (even more interesting after it rained). Then there were the strange heavy, unexplained floating objects. And let’s not forget the creepy giant cocoons the size of a small car, we found laying by the path up the hill. But today, our  sculpture hunt was a little more challenging—like up in a tree! (more…)

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The ciliegio, cherry tree, in the corner of the garden was full of bright red cherries with that deep irresistable glow. We plucked a couple and popped them into our mouths as we walked by. They were wonderful—as sweet as they could be and just about ready for pickin’. (more…)