"Thinking about what you think about."

Song of the Carolina wren.

Making her escape. Ink on paper, 2019. (C.M.)

28 JANUARY—Two weeks ago, while walking along Bald Mountain road—among the most beautiful of country lanes in the township of Norfolk, Connecticut—I was lost in a fantastical reverie, thinking about what I think about what I think. 

No, that was not a typo, and if it seems absurd, well, yes.

I was reviewing, assessing, rationalizing, justifying, and explaining to myself all of the important, nuanced reasons for why I think what I think. Thus absorbed, I was completely unaware of my surroundings.

Do you know what I mean? Does it sound familiar?

At some point, well into the walk, a sound caught and held my attention. It was the song of a Carolina wren. Beautiful. More profound than any human thought—any that I’m capable of—it calmed and settled my mind.

The little wren, such a common bird, calling me back home.

Just yesterday a friend, astute, kind, generous, smart, beguiling, and wonderfully eccentric, sent an email with the following appended to the bottom, as if a reminder from the universe itself:

she thinks

silence

Listen to the song of the Carolina wren, announcing, as it celebrates, all of the wisdom of the ages—and more. A cosmic chorus. Her song is the very music within your own heart. There is nothing more wondrous, magical, medicinal, beautiful, profound, powerful, or meaning. 

These sweet songs are the medicine we need right now.

I know you know what I mean.

(Thank you, Ben.)

With love,

Cara

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