Article October 2, 1978 Issue

Lessons from the spotted flycatcher

ERIC HOWARD PAGE

There he was, perched upright and still on a small jutting branch of a conifer. Then he suddenly darted downward, almost to the ground, and returned in triumph with an insect in his beak. Periodically he repeated the sally. A lively small bird, the spotted flycatcher. But he isn't noticeably spotted (only the young are); his neat brown plumage suits his activities better.

Here were lessons to be learned. The bird had a surprising brightness of eye, and he perched upright and ready. Here surely was alertness. Here too was confidence; he knew his capabilities, and he unhesitatingly relied on them. He never missed an insect while I was watching; but whenever he does fail in his swoop, it doesn't worry him. He just tries again. Here undoubtedly was the lesson of persistence.

Alertness, confidence, persistence—a fine trio of qualities. Yes, I could learn from my feathered friend. Was I always as alert as I should be? I feared not. Opportunities of one sort or other had often slipped by. Especially opportunities to detect false thoughts and reject them. But they wouldn't have if I'd had a clearer appreciation of the truth that man is a spiritual idea, inseparable from God, Life, and reflecting therefore all the qualities of Life—reflecting keen aliveness all the time. For God, Life, does not make His idea awake and alive just sometimes. God knows nothing of any opposite qualities such as dullness and drowsiness, because they do not exist. All space is completely filled with the activity, the vitality, of the one Life, God. If we are grateful for this Life, we cannot help reflecting God's vitality.

Enjoy 1 free Sentinel article or audio program each month, including content from 1898 to today.

Send a comment to the editors