Blackbird territory

On travelling through the strange space between wellness and illness.

Lately, I’ve been walking the woods early in the morning. There’s an expansive clarity about these hours. The world is still under the dreamspell of a dark night, and the day’s business lies far enough away that it doesn't clutter my thoughts.

As spring gathers her green skirts and scatters early flowers in the clearings, the birdsong answers in shifting volume and tone. I love watching the birds as they let loose a liquid trill or a sharp staccato, and in the early hours, their song carries bright in the clear air.

It’s a time and space that is neither night nor day and yet is both of those at once.

As the minutes grow towards the breaking day, the space is ever-shifting and never static. Light grows, and darkness fades fast. The noise of the day seeps in as the peace of the night recedes. Yet there’s such a quality of stillness at the heart of this transient passage. A call to utter presence, to ‘being with’.

Blackbird sings from a nearby hedge, and I immerse myself in the beauty of his song. The breeze shimmies in a young beech tree, and I’m enchanted by the way the branches dance.

Photo by Rui Neve on Unsplash

These precious hours in the waking wild are teaching me about the liminal space that lies between my inner and outer worlds.

As my journey with Parkinson’s progresses, the inner space I inhabit through meditative practices grows more vivid, and a deep sense of peace and contentment expands. I feel healed, more alive than ever.

Yet my outer world is filled with physical awkwardness. I’m slow and clumsy. My movements ‘freeze’ and my tremor makes everyday actions, like packing a bag or stirring a sauce, tricky. Anxiety, a part of the Parkinson’s picture, can hijack me and exacerbate all my symptoms.

Seeking a sense of contentment beyond my meditation stool, it’s in the neither/both territory that I’m learning to seed peace into a busy life. In the moments after I open my eyes from a long meditation, I’m remembering to take it slowly, to freight each moment with a resilient sense of gratitude and trust. When I’m feeling stressed and way too busy, I’m practising giving myself one minute of total presence, choosing to surface from the torrent of thoughts in my head and invite emptiness into its midst.

In this way, I can carry the waters of inner stillness to the fires of frustration when simple things take hours. And blackbird song can still enrapture me even in the throes of a busy day.

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