Comment below: **
--- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, off_world_beings <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > > --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, TurquoiseB <no_reply@> > wrote: > > > > I awoke this morning to find that the hirondelles are > > back in town. Cool. I sat on my neighbor's terrace this > > morning with my coffee and just watched them, and they > > were a meditation in themselves. > > > > Hirondelles are a local brand of swallow, and they're > > migratory. They go to Vegas or somewhere like that for > > the winter, and haven't been around for a few months. > > But as of this morning they're back, and they're really > > *neat* to watch. In the crépuscule (twilight) of either > > sunrise or sunset, they fly out of their nests and > > start hunting for food -- in mid-air. They eat bugs, > > by picking them out of the air as they fly, and the > > grace and agility with which they do this is truly > > magnificent to behold. > > > > The first time I stood on the terrace and noticed the > > hirondelles, a few of them completely blew my mind. I'd > > be watching them and then one would fly at full speed > > into the side of the medieval city wall on which I live, > > and DISAPPEAR. Poof. No bird. It took me a while to > > figure it out. The 11th-century builders had figured > > out that the stone and masonry walls needed to "breathe," > > so they built in the occasional clay pipe -- about two > > inches wide -- into the walls as they built them. In the > > Spring and Summer, these pipes become nests for the > > hirondelles, and they're as precise about being able > > to fly into them at full speed as they are at picking > > bugs out of mid-air. > > > > I know that you guys probably won't get this; it's > > definitely one of those "Ya had to have been there" > > kinda pleasures. But Asian literature (especially > > Japanese) is full of poems and stories chronicling the > > delights of watching swallows, and there is a reason. > > Watching them fly is like watching enlightenment dance. > > > > In a way, the precision and grace of their flight > > reminds me of listening to the Dalai Lama give an > > advanced talk to a roomful of Tibetan scholars who > > "get" all the nuances and subtlety and precision of > > his language, and the overriding sense of *fun* that > > he's having using it. The Dalai Lama's hobby is fixing > > old antique watches -- taking them apart, figuring out > > how they work and why they're broken, and then fixing > > them so that they run again, and keep perfect time in > > a world in which time does not even really exist. And > > that is how his mind works; it's as precise as a Swiss > > watch. The hirondelles' flight is a lot like that. > > Wish you could be here to see it. > > > > > > A feast being spread in springtime > > With a cup of green wine and a joyous song. > > I repeat my salutation and offer my three wishes: > > First, may you have a long life, > > Second, may I have good health, > > Third, may we live as the swallows on the beam, > > Happily together all year round. > > - Feng Yen-Chi > > > > > > The red-throated > > chimney swallows, two of them, > > upon the rafters > > and underneath, my mother > > who is going to die now. > > - Mokichi Saito > > > > > > Renting a horse > > You follow the swallows > > As we part > > - Bashō > > > > > > My body, in its withering > > May become a lovely swallow. > > Under the eaves of my loved one's home > > I'll build my nest of twigs. > > After dusk I'll fly aloft > > And glide gently to his side. > > - anonymous>> > > I know what you mean. I once watched swallows in England in an > idyllic country pond setting, then later, with eyes closed, I > spontaneously experienced being a swallow and flying through the > air. It was very real and sweet. > > Are you talking about Swallows or Swifts? The Swifts are much bigger > and almost all black (not so rosypink breast), and I remember seeing > the Swifts a lot in the South of France. > > OffWorld > **end** The second hotel I stayed in Fiuggi after we flew over from Mallorca was at the very edge of town; the Concho d'Oro, a very pretty little place and I had a tiny garret on the top floor, right under the roof with a dramatically sloping ceiling that terminated in a three-foot high "wall" pierced by two barred windows. The view encompassed a gentle rolling countryside, rich green and luxuriant with new Spring growth. The eaves of the roof were immediately above my two windows and swallows had nests built right under the eaves. I would sit after doing asanas and do pranayam while the swallows would come and go from their nests. There was a constant updraft right under the eaves and lots of times the swallows would just hover for several seconds right in front of my windows before tweaking a finger feather or two and darting out of sight and into their nests. I remember the breeze being warm and fragrant and the floating swallows epitomized the whole experience of the time and the place.
