A lesson in hope
What a huddle of strangers waiting to glimpse a bird taught me about hope
Hello you,
How have you been doing? I didn’t think I had anything to write to you this week. But then these words arrived.
On Friday I witnessed hope.
A pure display of collective hope that completely caught me off guard. And I was part of it.
Ever since we discovered the existence of bearded tits, a debonair-looking reed bird, we’ve been meaning to make the trip over to RSPB Leighton Moss to spot some.
We decided Friday morning was the time, and we walked purposely from the carpark, along the rough track and onto the wooden boardwalk to the birds’ ‘grit trays’.
Enroute we passed countless posters and advertising boards of the comical looking moustachioed bird, adding to our confidence that today would be the day we could tick this little guy off our sightings list.
We caught up with an older couple who, due to the gentleman’s very sizable camera lens, I assumed to be ‘proper’ bird people. (As opposed to us two absolute novices.)
During a brief exchange, the chap informed us that he had been waiting fifty years(!), yes, FIVE whole decades to spot the elusive bearded tit.
Oh...
Here we were, rocking up to the reserve thinking we were just going to potter through the gates and there they’d be, doing the splits in the reeds. My expectations plummeted down to the mud beneath my boots.
Oh well, I thought. We’d definitely get to see some other birdies whilst at Leighton Moss. This wouldn’t be a wasted trip.
We arrived at the wooden platform overlooking the grit trays. Apparently, bearded tits eat grit to help them grind up seeds because their beaks aren’t strong enough to do this.
A couple of birders(?) twitchers(?) were in position already with their humongous camo-covered camera lenses, their tripods and their khaki clothing.
There was a hushed reverence amongst the group. A brief whispered exchange to confirm that they hadn’t been seen yet. And then…silence.
Waiting.
Anyone who knows me well will tell you that I’m not someone who easily accesses the virtue of patience.
But it was clear, this was not going to be one of those instant gratification situations. We were in the midst of real, committed and patient bird lovers. One man had been waiting fifty years for crying out loud!
I inhaled a couple of breaths of delicious fresh air and told myself I could do this.
I can wait.
For the first time in I don’t know how long, I was still. I could feel myself easing into the moment, taking in the sights and sounds of the morning sky and textures of the dense reed beds. I was settling in for the potential long haul. The long haul that may have absolutely zero reward at the end of it. If that’s not mindfulness then I don’t know what is.
More waiting.
As minutes passed, more people joined us on the wooden balcony. We exchanged little nods of optimism and then they settled into position.
More waiting.
Do you know what kept me going?
It was the hope.
If I felt myself wondering if this was a fruitless exercise, I’d glance around at the group, and be inspired. Of all the things they could be doing with their precious, finite time today, they were choosing to do this.
They were choosing hope.
As time went on and we’d been there about 40 minutes, I almost didn’t care if we saw the bird or not. This pocket of time with this huddle of strangers had been an unexpected gift. A teachable moment about hope.
After just under an hour, the man who’d been waiting 50 years nudged his partner. They had to leave, he told us. Other commitments.
“Now we’re leaving, they’ll come. Just you wait,” the lady said knowingly before they ambled away.
He’ll be back again with his camera I’ve got no doubt, still clinging onto that decades-long hope.
And of course, four minutes later, guess who poked his head out of the reeds?
What a privilege.
Yesterday at St. Peter’s Square in Manchester I huddled again, this time with a much bigger group of thousands of strangers at a demonstration to stand in solidarity with the people of Palestine. And I received photos on WhatsApp from friends at marches in London, Sheffield, Newcastle and even Rome. With all the rage, grief, heartbreak and horror, somehow there was also a sense of hope. We need to keep going and keep hold of this for those people who are in the despair of hopelessness right now.
It is so crucial to have hope. We all deserve to feel hopeful about what is in store.
I happened to read this in the book I’m reading this morning, Love and Rage by Lama Rod Owens. “For those of us who survive present moments of deep pain and despair, our hope is the only thing we have. To look forward to a future that is a little less dark, a little more happy and liberated, to dream new ways of being not what I am now…”
Janelle x
Yeah, well said. Especially with all the stress, hardships, and horrible events persistently taking place in our current times, it's ultimately a sense of hope that will truly enable us to survive each day, have more peace of mind, and progress forward in our lives.
Beautifully written as ever, Janelle - what a needed reminder of the importance of hope, of patience, and the comforting solidarity of having company in those processes. Also I've never heard of bearded tits before but I love that close-up photo, they've got so much character!