The Asby half of Asby and Jones. "My words have an ancestor. My deeds have a lord." - The Tao Te Ching. Alana enjoys imagination, sanity, and tricolon. Writer-Editor-Publisher at Vulgaris Media.
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When I Woke Up And Went Out To The Living Room, I Saw A Little Brown Bird With A Finch-type Beak Fluttering
When I woke up and went out to the living room, I saw a little brown bird with a finch-type beak fluttering against the window panes. We had the windows open the day before, and she must have come in then. I thought I heard strange noises in the night!
After we mutually discussed things with the Holy Guardian Angel in a our High Gentle Voices, the bird settled on my finger tips and I put my hand out the window. She sat looking at me with her head cocked for a few seconds before flying away.
I felt:
One thing I learned right away is that the scariest thing for birds is to have their wings pinned. So they don't want to be grabbed from the back, however gently. The animation here is actually correct: the bird is far more comfortable if you bring your hand up from beneath and offer a perch.
More Posts from Alana-k-asby
PRAYER OF SOUL-WOUNDED BLOGGERS
Many thanks, O God, for thy Holy Ones
From vanity, vanity, and degraded vanity, we turn to wholeness, we turn to stainlessness with vast and gusty sighs of relief
Ah, forgive us, Sweetest, that we have not relieved by sweetness souls miserably devouring their own dank and sour miseries in our helpless sight
But we thank thee and yet again we thank thee that we may turn we thank thee from the grievous vision may turn to gaze
on thy backward-revolving sunrise: Dawn returning from the west mercifully refusing night to unhappy night-cravers
Ah, thanks and thanks yet again, our God, God our own, many thanks still yet again for thy Holy Ones, O God.
One of my favorite paintings. It so feelingly captures what it is like to be Orthodox: the homely familiarity with holy things, the sharp beautification of space and time, and the sense of living one's everyday life in the Lord's personal household.
It should say, "Holy Russia."
Saint Russia, Mikhail Nesterov
Fleur-de-Lys
Wither, Lily slim and white; softly cede each velvet part.
Sing, Wind, that she was straight and tall.
With rainfall swell and fill, stem-circling green Pool.
Roll in around her, Night, aghast and whispering and cool.
Within her faultless heart creep, armored Animals and small.
And last, O Pool! - on your breast whose strength is slight, awhile bear still the spear she must let fall.