Newsletter May 2026 Volume 198
Hello there,
Hope you are well.
I love when the songbirds return in the spring.
I really look forward to it.
Last week the Baltimore Orioles did not arrive at the time they usually return. I started to get nervous. I didn’t see their flashing orange and black feathers through the leaves of the trees or hear their wordy cheerful song.
I tried to be patient.
We have three apple trees that have been blooming gloriously this week. These chilly days are really extending the blooming time which the birds seem to be enjoying. They eat the buds and petals as well as the insects in the flowers. Usually these trees are a big attraction for the Orioles.
The trees were full of songbirds like blue jays, chickadees, cardinals, cedar waxwings, house finches, house sparrows, chipping sparrows, bluebirds, even several indigo buntings, which are a gorgeous deep blue.
But no Baltimore Orioles.
I started to worry about the challenges these birds face: climate change, predators, human encroachment on their habitat, pesticides and more.
I felt sad and I started really thinking about the 30% reduction in songbirds since I was a child in the 70’s and how when we used to drive at night there were so many flying insects it was like driving through a cloud of bugs and now the insects are so sparse.
There has been a 45% decrease in insects over the last 40 years!
That led to feeling despair about living on a beautiful planet that could provide for everyone and support diverse animal and plant life if it weren’t run with absolutely suicidal systems created by terrifyingly cruel and stupid sociopaths.
I came upon this quote by Charles Bukowski and it fit my mood.
“We’re all going to die, all of us, what a circus!
That alone should make us love each other but it doesn’t.
We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities,
we are eaten up by nothing.”
After a day of feeling down and defeated I stepped inside from the lush blooming yard. When I got to the kitchen, I was shocked and delighted to hear the bright song of a Baltimore Oriole coming through the window. Then I (finally!) saw the flash of orange and black among the cloud of light pink flowers of the tree out the window.
I thought of all the grieving I had done when I could have just been a bit more patient.
And of course my grieving wasn’t wrong.
Things are desperate in this world, yes.
But I thought of this Instagram post I had seen that really resonated with me.
Of course, rolling around in grief is valid, but sometimes it is a desperate plea to stay safe from the colossal griefs that are coming for us. To tidy them up and get ready. To lay them out and think we are prepared, but we can’t really be prepared. “You can’t pre-grieve your way into safety.”
There is no safety from the volatility and ultimate end of human life, which is of course part of what makes it all so precious.
All life.
I think grief has an important regular place in our lives. How could it not? But I also think there is so much beauty and joy to be had and so many small and large victories around us. Like the Baltimore Oriole that is now singing up and down my yard morning until night. The joy and relief I feel is profound. This season is so fleeting and magnificent like so many parts of this life are.
To Be Alive -Gregory Orr
To be alive: not just the carcass
But the spark.
That’s crudely put, but…
If we’re not supposed to dance,
Why all this music?
The post below resonated with me, speaking to that desire to hold onto something you love so much that it hurts and instead using that feeling as a motivation to love something as best as you can.
I realized that when I take on and really feel the worry and grief, I’m trying to understand, minimize, compartmentalize, the sweeping enormous fields of grief to keep myself safe.
Sometimes I do grieve for humanity and the failed human experiment a bit early.
When I heard the Oriole’s singing, it was a reminder to hang on and not give up quite so quickly and think the worst. And to really enjoy the hell out of that Baltimore Oriole’s song. And the flashes of orange in the trees and the way they cheerfully go at the flowers in the apple tree while singing their song.
My yoga teacher Judith Lasater used to say, “Worry is praying for what you don’t want.” Sometimes that phrase can feel offensive to those who feel that worrying is a way of expressing love or care, but filling ourselves with worry, focusing on what could go wrong can be another form of control and distraction where the joy in life can seep out.
The practicality of my job helping babies be born makes this one concrete for me. We worry and prepare for all possible outcomes, but we don’t allow the worry to stop us from moving toward the best outcome possible.
Patiently and relentlessly.
We all know that life and birth are dangerous and fraught,
As Langston Hughes wrote:
Advice
“Folks, I’m telling you,
birthing is hard
and dying is mean-
so get yourself
a little loving
in between.”
I hope this glorious and brief season is allowing you to spend some time outside to revel in the abundance that is May. And to feel a little loving from the flowers, the birds, the bright fresh leaves, the insects and whatever else in your beautiful life that you hold dear.
xoxo
Katherine
