I.In this Issue

This issue's Minna-drash is about urban bird watching and how readily we can see amazing things if we take the time to look. The Offerings section is a nuts and bolts update on my summer plans and Ph.D. progress. By the time you read it, any number of "plans" may have changed significantly so please be gentle with my frequent course corrections.

May we savor each moment's opportunity to interweave ourselves with the richness of the World.

Ph.D. News
If I can continue to meet the deadlines I've set for myself, I should be well on my way to advancing to candidacy -being done with everything but my dissertation-- by the time you read this. Or not. I like to follow my Grandma Roz's example of being extremely wary of making promises may not be able to keep. That said I am very excited to start the part of my dissertation work which involves talking to people instead of just reading books.

Next Issue
There is a very real possibility that "Sh'ma Koli" will take a break for the summer though it would be very nice to be able to keep in touch while I'm on the road, so we shall see.

IV. Minna-drash: Urban Birds and Discernment

This spring was chilly and rainy. But the winter was so mild that for the first few rainy weeks, everyone kept saying, "We can't complain." Toward the sunny end of one of these drizzly days, I headed for the Lake. All the signs posted on my neighborhood's telephone poles were now drying out in the sun so that even the newest had a well-worn, water-logged look to them and a very clear sense of the incredibly strong fibers of which they were made. And the inks that were fortunate enough to be water-proof seemed to shine proudly on their crinkly substrates.

The signs posted in my neighborhood tend to fall into four categories. First there are the "Lose 30 pounds in 30 days" signs. When I'm feeling frisky I take great pleasure in tearing these down. Then there are the signs posted by our local International Socialists. These are usually some version of "End Global Capitalism" or "What should be done about the death penalty/war in Afghanistan/unemployment/[fill in any old local or global problem]? Socialism is the answer!" Third are the signs warning us that the city is trying to eradicate rats in this particular alley. Finally, and most heartbreaking, there are the signs for lost -and only rarely, found-- pets. Usually these feature dogs or cats but there was also a memorable set of signs about a lost ferret a couple of years ago. Shortly after these were posted I noticed a young woman walking a ferret down the street (or was it walking her?) and asked optimistically if this was the one that had been lost. It turned out that the ferret she was walking was the lost one's brother and that he was despondent after the loss of his litter-mate.

But that spring day I saw a sign that got my mind whirring and my heart warm. It was almost flying off its Scotch tape tethers in the wind. It was a plain white sheet of paper with four lines of hand lettering in a bold black print. It read:
LOVEBIRD
Found Saturday 3am.
He was lying on the sidewalk.
He is healthy and wants his mate.
312-XXX-XXXX

There are a lot of birds in my neighborhood. Pigeons, sparrows, crows, and seagulls are the most common. But I also see cardinals, the occasional woodpecker, tiny light brown hopping birds that seem to go in pairs and have yellow stripes on their heads, turtledoves, a beautiful bright yellow bird whose name I always forget and my mom remembers, and the other day I saw a bird creeping up a tree like a nuthatch only I don't think it was the same kind of nuthatch I'm used to because it blended so perfectly with the bark that I could only find it by waiting for it to move and then if I looked away I lost it and had to wait for it to move again. Yesterday I saw a young pigeon and realized that it was the first time I'd seen the adolescent stage of this ubiquitous city dweller. I'm all too familiar with the kind of baby pigeon that falls out of its nest and dies on your balcony or doorstep despite the shoe box and rags and plastic lid of water you left for it and the cat food you offered it repeatedly. But this was a vivacious little thing, fuzzy around the edges, scratching in the dirt, running up to adult birds and squawking plaintively.

My most memorable bird sighting happened one fall evening as I was walking to the meditation center. It was well past sunset and out of the corner of my eye I saw something fly past my head and land in the tree behind me. "What flies at night?" I thought to myself. "Bats. Bats fly at night," myself answered. So I looked at the tree to investigate, which in retrospect was a little silly because I don't know that bats really land in trees much and I don't know how I would see a mouse-sized brown bat against the brown tree bark in the dark. But there on the lowest branch was a small white and grey form that was unmistakably an owl. Right here in the middle of the city a little owl. I walked closer and tried to say hello. He took one look at me and then simply turned his head 180 degrees and wouldn't look at me again. I can't imagine a clearer gesture than this tiniest coldest shoulder: his feet and body still facing me and his head looking in the opposite direction. Owls fly at night.

I asked some fifth graders a few months ago to tell me about ways they connected to the Sacred. One blurted out, "Niagara Falls!" Another said simply, "Dreams." And one young girl was so calmly self-assured that I wished I could bottle her confidence and give it to her as a potion to help her through the impending doubt-filled years of teenager-hood. She thought for a moment and then said, "Birds. Birds are messengers."

For me, the birds in my neighborhood are messengers when they remind me that we see by looking. They remind me of how seeing Holy Sparks in everything means recognizing not only what makes everything similar, but what makes each moment/situation/face/bird unique. They remind me of how Moses had to take a good long look at the Burning Bush to realize that it was burning without being consumed. Imagine if he had rushed on past assuming it was just your everyday sort of flaming tumbleweed!

How many more adolescent pigeons or shy owls might I spot if I took more time to notice? And how frequent are our opportunities for the simple healing act of noticing what needs fixing and fixing it? This is not to say that we should only work on healing the smallest and most apparent forms of brokenness or that long vision isn't also important. But in a fractured world where it is all too common and comfortable to feel as if there is absolutely nothing we can do, I am reminded of the quote attributed to Mother Theresa that "we can do no great things, only small things with great love." A small thing done with great love: stopping in the rain at 3am and looking closely enough and long enough to notice that the bird lying on the sidewalk wasn't a pigeon or a sparrow or even an owl but a lovebird who was healthy and wanting his mate.