Bird in the Labyrinth

The main picture on my site is the labyrinth at the Claggett Center in Adamstown, Maryland. People have used labyrinths for centuries for meditation; and that’s why I went that morning at dawn. I stepped into this sacred space in silence, feet crunching in the gravel as I began my serpentine journey through the meditative maze.

Almost immediately, I encountered a bird. Just a tiny thing that could easily fit in my hands if I cupped them. I thought nothing of it beyond how pleasant it was to have a companion in the space at the start of the day. But as I took another step, this tiny “companion” darted up to me, planted itself 3 feet from me, and began squawking like a taxi driver in a fender bender. I stopped dead in my tracks. I had never seen such a tiny creature behave this way and could not fathom why it would. I had come there to meditate, however; and after a moment, I pressed on while this bird continued its tirade.

Then, as I snaked toward the edge of the labyrinth, this bird moved back into view and did a bizarre dance with a wing splayed to one side as it staggered about. I thought it was injured. Is this why it was aggressive before? But as I kept walking, forcing it to reorient to hold my gaze outside the maze, the injury magically changed sides. Now the other wing splayed out lame as it staggered doing a bird version of a limp. All the while it did everything to keep my attention pointed outward.

Until I rounded a turn deep within the meditative serpentine. Suddenly, it stopped the strange ritual and began moving with nothing-to-see-here nonchalance. It finally dawned on me that there must be a nest! This was a momma bird protecting a nest. A little further, with momma off to one side pretending not to care, I found a rock nest with 5 eggs in a circle of stones. With my curiosity satisfied, I ceded the space to momma bird. This dense human being had caused her enough stress for one morning.

So much for silent meditation and companionship in the space. Sometimes we choose the meditation. Sometimes the universe chooses for us. That morning, it chose for me.

Ralph Waldo Emerson concluded his essay “Nature” this way. “Every spirit builds itself a house; and beyond a house, a world; and beyond its world, a heaven. Know then that the world exists for you. For you is the phenomenon [Nature] perfect. What we are, that only we can see. All that Adam had, all that Caesar could, you have and can do. Adam called his house, heaven and earth; Caesar called his house, Rome; you perhaps call yours, a cobbler’s trade; a hundred acres of ploughed land; or a scholar’s garret. Yet line for line, and point for point, your dominion is as great as theirs, though without fine names. Build, therefore, your own world.”

When I regaled people with my tale of momma bird that day, I joked that the Claggett Center had surrendered ownership of that labyrinth to her. It was now her space, her world, her “heaven”. She had built it. She had furthered her cycle of life there. She would lay down her life for it or outwit the clueless human to protect it. She lived Emerson’s words that day. Something worth meditating on.