Therefore, sparrow colors and
patterns make sense. Still, you can't help feeling that something is going on
here other than the sparrow species having blindly evolved random camouflage
patterns. Sparrow patterns are so elegant and the colors are so sublimely
complementary that the mind rejects the idea that such effects could arise from
mere Darwinian selection. One senses a hand at work here that creates with a
flair. If this Creator were to walk into the room, you'd not be surprised if
She were whistling a jaunty little tune.
I think that the question of
whether one finds a sparrow's plumage pretty or not is a good measure of how
comfortable that person is with reality at large. I am struck by the general
"earthiness" and "hominess" of sparrow colors and patterns.
Since I regard "earthiness" and "hominess" as hallmarks of
a peaceful, happy, sustainable life, it seems that sparrow colors and patterns
abstractly express something to which I aspire. It's as if what I regard as the
Creator's guiding principles for Life on Earth were somehow expressed in terms
of sparrows.
I'm not suggesting that Nature
teaches us to live exclusively in a subdued manner harmonious with earth- tone
sparrow colors. After all, the Creator also produced Cardinals, Blue Jays and
Painted Buntings.
But, if in your bird fieldguide you
scan the species from cover to cover, you'll see that maybe 80% of the species
are, you could say, modest looking but elegant -- like sparrows, sandpipers and
thrushes. Maybe 18% are colorful (but not spectacular) or somehow novel in
appearance, in the manner of woodpeckers and hummingbirds. And only a handful
are outright bodacious, like the Cardinal and Blue Jay.
So I would say that if in nature
the Creator provides paradigms upon which we humans should pattern our lives,
the bird fieldguide reveals one view of the matter: The enlightened and
fulfilled life will be 80% modest and dignified; 18% colorful but not gaudy,
and; maybe 2% outright rip-roaring.
*****
STORM JOG
Saturday morning at dawn I awakened
sweating in my sleeping bag, for during the night the air had turned unseasonably
warm and humid. I jogged wearing only shorts and shoes, and before long I was
good and sweaty, feeling as if I were a detached awareness with my body on
autopilot running below me. That is a good feeling, when the body is working
well and the fresh air rushing into the lungs feels like high-octane fuel, and
the trail below invites you on and on.
Suddenly there came
a roar into the trees and heavy rain could be heard coming through the forest
at a distance. In a second the gloomy warm air all around was