Three friends have been to witness a murmuration of starlings over Lough Ennell near Mullingar. I hear how they fell silent at dusk as they watched this display by thousands of birds, weaving mesmeric shapes in one continuous flow. ‘Dazzling’, ‘awesome’, ‘ecstatic’, the only words they could say.
Of course the ‘how’ and ‘why’ of this family outing is utterly beyond us but its magnificence draws the wonder of our ‘oh’ and ‘ah’. True, photos and videos can capture the swishing dance sequence –every wing beat in step – but silent witnessing brings closer the sacredness of what is unfolding – holy beings being a holy family!
Strange as it may seem, this counts as a moment of divine revelation, of the Creator speaking through his creatures. Imagine, synchronized flying as God talk! Indeed one friend suggested that this is how the three apostles must have felt on Mount Tabor when Jesus was transfigured before them; his face and clothes dazzlingly white and a voice overhead announcing: ‘this is my beloved Son! Listen to him.’
After one particular experience of the natural world, Seamus Heaney would write, ‘Useless to think you’ll park and capture it more thoroughly. You are neither here nor there, a hurry through which known and strange things pass’ (Postscript). Not that we are always ‘in a hurry’ but ‘hurry’ seems to be a condition of who we are.
We get certain moments, doorways to a deeper appreciation of life. In crossing these thresholds we are changed. We come back to ourselves by a different route.