by Janice Hunter
has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
To melt and be like a running brook that
sings its melody to the night. To wake at
dawn with a winged heart and give thanks
for another day of loving. ~ Kahlil Gibran
I woke very early today, too early to start
clattering and clanging in the kitchen so
I grabbed a book, a pen and spiral bound
notebook and wandered out into the garden,
heading for the table, sipping the glass
of blueberry juice I’d poured for
laid my books on the table, the blue and
white tablecloth dew-damp under my sleepy
arms, and I sat there thinking ‘These
birds are really loud!’
Cheeping, cooing, chirruping, whistling,
trilling, tweeting, chattering…I slowly
started to single out each songbird’s
soaring celebration of a new morning.
The sun, burning off the last few patches
of mist, cast shafts of light through the
laurels, turning web-hung droplets to twinkling
crystals whenever the fresh morning breeze
rustled the branches, dark green against
a clear blue sky.
I breathed in the fragrance of moist earth
and caught the scent of the mock orange
blossom by our back door. Feeling more alive
than I had for months, I thought about writing
some morning pages, hoping to explore and
dispel the shadows that have been settling
I opened the notebook, half heartedly fiddling
with my pen as I sat listening to the birds,
Soon I would hear the sound of distant traffic;
the humming of an aeroplane across the sky;
the faint clattering of cereal bowls and
spoons; the sound of kettles and radio alarms
carried on the breeze. I put down the pen
and leaned back in my seat, unwilling to
leave the moment even to capture it.
A big fat bee came buzzing around the bushes
by my feet and made me smile! I hadn’t
seen one for months. So many tales of the
bees disappearing; with them would go the
soundtrack to my childhood garden memories
of damp grass and daisy chains, dandelions
a flash of red and a choot choot choot
– a robin, on the fence behind the berberis
bush. He stopped, looked at me, bobbed his
head three times and flew off.
I knew, knew then as I know now, with a
certainty that leaves no room for fear or
doubt: I was meant to write this
piece. I was meant to write. I
was meant to wake up early, to love that
bee, to be that robin, to share
with you the beating of my “winged
heart” on a grateful spring morning.
And you were meant to read this. For without
the life and the breath and the experience
you bring to these words, they would only
be pixels on a screen. Like the bee, you
touch the lives of strangers, you’re
woven through the fabric of a million memories,
you create moments that leave the world
a better place. You and I – like the robin
– have a message to bring, a song to sing
in the eternal dawn chorus.
as you choose to wrap your heart around
the moments that make up a life, how will
you share your precious gift with the world?
You were born with talents, you’ve
worked hard to build skills, to create connections
– but they’re just the channel. You
are the gift.
About the Author:
Hunter is a writer and IAC certified coach who lives in
Scotland with her husband and two children. She specialises
in homelife coaching (helping people create authentic,
spirit-filled homes and lives) and also enjoys supporting
other coaches through her writing and collaboration.
compiled all of her Coaching Moments pieces from the last
two years into a free 46 page ebook, 'Coaching Moments: a
Collection of Articles about Coaching in Everyday Life'
which can be downloaded
here or from her