Bird, Watching the Future - Part Two
It’s that time of the year again —
Set your resolutions! New year, new you!
Be better, faster stronger!!
Go bigger than the year before!!!
Winter break is over, remove the pause - go, go, go!!!!
Woo-sahhhh.
Let me type, say, and do that again… wooooo - saaaahhh.
Don’t get me wrong. I love spending time picking out and buying my new planner for the year. I love thinking about my annual intentions and how they will further my longer term visions. I love sitting in learnings from years prior to intention set. And don’t get me started on my love for figuring out updates to my personal operating systems (thank you, Cami Anderson!)!!
But I also love re-imagining how to build the world I see on the other side and shedding practices that no longer serve me as I build. I’ve come to deeply believe resolution setting and the mad dash to begin again with productivity and goal-checking at the center of my ethos when January comes around no longer serves me, my legacy, or the people and causes I care about. You can read all about how I’m a BHAG (big hairy audacious goal) setter in recovery in last year’s first Bird Watching the Future post here.
As the new year begins — and perhaps our shoulders that were so relaxed and lowered from our ears are beginning to rise again to take on the role of earrings — I wonder: can we all do something different this year and not press the artificial reset button of heightened productivity and short-term reimagining of ourselves? Might we bird watch the future again instead?
It was three days into 2024 and I was on my final stretch of our winter rest break at The Highland Project (THP). I could feel as soon as I woke up my anxiety beginning to kick up as my husband and friends began to return to work, my inboxes began to fill up again, and the resolution rhetoric significantly rise in volume across all forms of media.
“Am I not being productive enough? Ambitious enough? Am I… lazy?” I journaled these questions and took a few deep breaths. I thumbed to my final 2023 coaching session notes where I wrote:
“I kept learning to shed the practices that did not produce the THP vision and more this year. When will I stop going back to these practices when I know they no longer serve where I’m trying to go?”
A few more deep breaths and I grabbed my winter coat and binoculars, turned my phone on DND, and headed back into the Ramble to bird watch.
I passed the ducks swimming in circles seemingly with no purpose or end in sight. The sparrows — almost tripled in number — basked in the still cold, but above average temperature day.
The sun was so warm and comforting on my face. I decided to pause and soak it all in, stopping at a bench alongside the water at Oak Bridge.
Surrounded by geese, my eyes found their way to spot a Great Blue Heron — puffed out, hunkered down, being still on a rock in the water. It was the last bird I thought I would see.
Had I forgotten the fundamentals of my bird watching experiences with the Great Blue Heron? She shows up in moments of the space in between an ending and a beginning — the liminal space. Representing evolution and upcoming change, she sits still deep in meditation and contemplation — for this is how she takes in an emergent future.
Here I was, on the edge of the water, still with the Great Blue Heron. We sat together in the liminal space, at the edge of an emergent future.
As I sat, my cheeks became rosy from the sun and my shoulders began to lower again. I was just shy of overwhelmed by sitting at the edge with the Great Blue Heron, taking in the lessons of the birds sitting alongside me at the edge of an emergent future. Here’s what I heard and felt.
Love for self and humanity. Sparrows are one of the most common birds. And yet, spiritually across several religions and sects, you’ll find the sparrows to be regarded as God's love and care for humanity. Love and a care for self and humanity are the ethos of legacy planning. Sitting on the bench as the new year began to slowly unfold, I took in the messages of the sparrows and questioned:
How am I celebrating my ordinary — not extraordinary — super powers this year?
What does it look like to redefine love to prioritize self-love?
Collectivism > Individualism. The ducks were not seemingly swimming with no purpose. For generations when the temperature drops, ducks have returned to practice passed down to them: the practice of collectivism. They move in circles to pull up food for the duck behind them. This is contrary to the mainstream Americanized viewpoints of “survival of the fittest” and “rugged individualism” as the keys to generational legacies. But every winter the ducks remind us: collectivism will build the future we seek. Caught in a meditative state watching them form circular ripples in the pond, I took in their message of collectivism and wondered:
How am I building on the wisdom of three generations back, and passing wisdom forward for the next three to build a collective narrative of abundance?
Am I in a reciprocal relationship with Mother Nature, taking consistent and intentional steps to return the love she gives me?
Be still. Experts in stillness, Great Blue Herons continue a generational practice of sitting still for hours on end, burning few calories as they stand and wait. They do not overwork to catch their prey — following the next flashy object, trend, or short-term goal. Smiling ear-to-ear spotting one of my favorite large birds of Central Park in a moment of transition, I wondered:
When and how will I stop going back to the practices and relationships that no longer serve where I’m trying to go?
Am I willing to surrender to stillness this year?
What does it look like to create a generational practice of stillness that is passed along to my niece, nephew, and future generations?
These messages and questions are not short-term resolutions or a commitment to explore and get to the bottom of each by December 31, 2024. Each of these questions could take a decade to explore alone! But rather, these messages and questions from bird watching represent the power of generational stillness to receive and build an emergent future.
As I look back on my day in the Ramble, I feel as sense of deep knowing in my core that Black women leaders are always sitting at the edge of an emergent future. We accept and deeply embody knowing that, in the words of Octavia E. Butler, “the only constant is change.” And so we do not focus on trying to stop change. We know it will always come. But rather, we focus on receiving messages and signs from the past, present, and future to shape, build, and sustain our legacies.
There continue to be so many external and internal forces attempting to take us off of this generational assignment. And so this January, let’s do something different. Maybe we can watch the birds and remember: nature does not get an artificial reset every January. And neither do our legacies. Just like nature, legacies are generational plans and patterns. Let’s slow up, be still, and not fall into the traps of short-term resolution planning.
As the new year unfolds, let’s sit at the edge of an emergent future, and surrender to love, collectivism, and stillness.
In still of surrender,
Gabrielle
