“Student, tell me, what is God?  He is the breath inside the breath.”

– Kabir

After several weeks of summer-like weather that have made us all question our calendars, a touch of winter returned to our area last night.  We awoke to frost.  As soon as I was awake, I hurried into the yard to inspect the apple blossoms and reassure myself that their ability to set fruit was not impaired by the fickle weather.  A part of me remembers the years when we had snow on May first — the “onion snow,” according to local farmers.  I realize how important the balance of climate is as I consider the consequences this combination of early blooming and sudden frost might have on our food crops.  Once again, I am thankful that we live in a time when we are able to preserve food.  After convincing myself that the apple and pear blossoms were high enough above the ground to escape the dew, I decided to finish my morning jaunt through the park.

My friend, Terri, posted a tongue-in-cheek status on Facebook this morning about going hunting for birds — the noisy ones that just couldn’t stop long enough for her to sleep, I guess.  I know what she means about their relentless singing, but I had a different view of them this morning.  The other effect that the sudden frost had today was to combine with the warm ground and the moisture in the air to produce fog.  As I crossed the street and entered the park, this is what I saw.

From my side of the alley, the tree in the foreground had looked like those in the distance; and it was only as I approached that it became completely visible.  I considered turning around and saving my walk for another day, but then I heard them — the birds!  As they have staked out their territories and built their nests, I’ve learned to identify each bird by its song.  What an awesome way to navigate the foggy park!  I knew that the robin was singing from the top branches of the largest maple tree, because I’ve seen him there every day for a week.  I could close my eyes and find that tree, just by listening to his song.  I could picture the crows — their several nests resting in the topmost branches of two sycamores and an oak — swooping and flying ahead of me, announcing my presence to all their feathered friends.  My mind’s eye knew the stations where they would pause and call out their warnings.  The woodpecker drilled in the dry old tree by the creek, enjoying his breakfast and oblivious to the haze that hung in the air.

I thought about Kabir and what he said about God being the breath inside the breath.  I thought of the way that creation is spoken of as sound — the “big bang,” or more quietly, “in the beginning was the Word.”  And I thought, as I walked, that when the birds are singing, God is the sound inside the sound.  At times when my eyes are made dim by fog or by doubts, all I need to do is open my ears and listen.