A Hummingbird’s World
“The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there-on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.”
— Carl Sagan
on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam
suspended in a sunbeam
Whilst sipping coffee on the swing of my parents’ oasis of a backyard, I saw two hummingbirds sipping sugar water and couldn’t help but wonder this:
what does the world look like to a hummingbird?
We’re all innately selfish — yes, even you. Especially me, for I blog and feel I have something to say. Ha! Thanks for reading, by the way.
We walk through the world as if we alone are walking, perceiving, experiencing, gawking, wondering, dreaming, following, leading, and so on.
Our eyes are the tunnels that lead us astray at times. And others? They’re the tunnels that lead us toward ambitious acts that define the rest of our lives. But not just ours… His, too. And hers. And yours. Mine. We behold the truth beyond our own vision, for it’s all we know. For fuck’s sake, it’s all we have.
A hummingbird focuses on the sweet goodness life has to offer, specifically in the form of sugar and flowers and vibrant colors that only they can see.
All the while, us humans search for more than what is there, deeply rooted in mother nature, in our instincts, in our blood, in our DNA.
A hummingbird is gracefully floating amid the airs that carry our whispers toward the trees, as we walk through life in awe and hope and some type of aspiration (or is it inspiration?).
We look toward the beyond for hope, wishing to just see what a fucking hummingbird sees, in all of the glory of the world, as if we could ever see what a stunning bird sees or feels and wishes or craves or yearns to seek.
What if we saw what they saw?
We’d flock toward the sugars in life, be it artificial or natural or planted just for us
just for us…
or maybe forgotten and overlooked and surpassed.
We’d fly toward brighter days, finding warmth in the sun that shines so gloriously down on us, from so high up above — so high as if from heaven itself.
We’d not cast judgment toward the other birds and animals that so fiercely walk in life just minding themselves as they survive and then live fully, as their destiny suggests.
We’d not compare our colors of one another.
We’d not give two flying fucks (see what I did there?) what anyone else thinks of us, let alone what anyone sees in us.
We’d flap our alluring wings until the winds tire of carrying us further, and we’d then wear ourselves thin until planting a spot upon a beautiful flower that is nearly as colorful as we.
To live in a hummingbird’s world is to grow beautifully together, harmoniously and in utter sync with the world that hosts a sea of diversity.
We alone choose what to perceive and allow and trust and alter. We morph our own worlds to the choosing of what best suits us, at the time.
at the time
Until… we stumble upon the dawning realization that the world doesn’t change. We change.
We become butterflies. Or trees. Or spiders. Or moths. Or — we become the hummingbirds that sip sweet waters until we make ourselves sick from the poisoning sugar that seeps into our veins.
We become people. Monsters. Creatures. Beasts. Caterpillars. Whispers. Shadows.
We also become ourselves, should we so choose.
And so as I sip upon my coffee that is void of all sugar (it’s as black as my soul, my coffee is), I can’t help but to wonder what a hummingbird contemplates as it migrates toward the red glass of water that hosts more sweetness than a sip of a flower’s nectar might. Enticing, no?
To look through a different lens, perhaps the lens of a rose-colored glass, is to allow an open mindset that we aren’t all so different, even if we truly are all so different.
Yet we all live on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam…
Including all the hummingbirds of this world.
Including you, man.
Won’t you dare to see through the eyes of someone (or something) else, once in a while?
Lest you ever forget: I am, because we are.
Natalie Maddy writes about dark inspirations, digging through the filth of the world to unveil its beautiful truths — in forms of abstract, fantasy, and bewilderment. She is the author of: The Reddest Rose Bleeds the Deepest.