Morning Lifeline

Every morning, before Oklahoma remembers that it's August and turns the temperature up to ridiculous, I go outside.

Coffee in hand.

Miss Focus beside me, just in case.

And — perhaps most importantly — the darn phone stays behind.

I sit in my chair on the veranda and watch my birdbath.

Somewhere along the way, that little pool of water became the neighborhood gathering place.

Birds come and go. The squirrels show up too, naturally, because apparently nothing happens around here without their supervision.

They drink. They bathe. They splash water everywhere. They fuss at each other over whose turn it is. Then they fly onto the nearby branches, shake themselves silly and carefully preen everything back into place.

It's better than television.

And lately, in this scorching heat, I pay even more attention to that water.

I check it every day. Is there enough? Is it clean? Has everybody splashed half of it onto the ground again?

I've watched birds land on the rim with their beaks open because it is simply freaking hot.

And there is something incredibly satisfying about knowing that this tiny thing I can provide gives them a little relief.

A bowl of water.

That's it.

Nothing complicated.

Yet somehow I give them water, and they give me something right back.

They give me entertainment. Curiosity. Laughter. Peace. Something to photograph. Something to notice.

Mostly, they make me stop.

I sit there drinking my coffee while this little world carries on in front of me — bathing, squabbling, talking, flying, splashing and generally conducting very important bird business.

And I can actually feel myself settling down.

My heart fills with this quiet and comfort.

Maybe they're grateful for the water.

Maybe I'm assigning human feelings to birds.

That's okay.

Because I know I'm grateful for them.

For a little while there is nowhere I need to go. Nothing I need to check. No phone demanding my attention.

Just coffee, birds, morning air and Miss Focus waiting beside me.

It's almost paradise.

Just a very small version of it.

I've come to think of this as my morning lifeline.

It reminds me that connecting with nature doesn't require a plane ticket, a national park or some grand adventure.

Sometimes you just need a chair.

A little water.

A tree.

And enough time to pay attention.

There's an idea Alan Watts often returned to that has always stayed with me: we aren't separate observers standing outside nature. We are part of it.

I think that's part of why these mornings feel so powerful.

For a few minutes, I stop observing life from the outside and simply participate in it.

They get water.

I get peace.

Seems like a pretty good trade.

So here's my suggestion:

Build your own little piece of heaven.

Put out a birdbath. Keep it filled with fresh water. Sit somewhere nearby. Leave your phone inside.

Then watch.

Don't accomplish anything.

Don't optimize anything.

Just watch.

You may be surprised how quickly a little patch of backyard can become a wildlife connection, a reset button...

or maybe even your own morning lifeline.