A ruckus erupted outside my office window. I looked out to see a mob of magpies attacking one of their own. I raced downstairs, out the garage and gave them my stern mom clap and voice, as if I was breaking up a playground skirmish. “That’s enough. You guys leave him alone. Off you go… shoo!”
The offenders fled and the crowd dispersed, though a few lingered in the high branches. I kept a watchful eye. “I can stand here all day. Off you go. Move along.”
They flew off out of sight.
Two weeks later, traveling in circles around my mind, accomplishing little, I scrolled on over to social media. A post popped up with an image of a meditator. The accompanying message said to recompose myself and leave others to their karma. That seemed sage advice and I left my computer for my bike. A ride around the coulee on a stunning fall day would clear my head.
Not 10 minutes into the ride, I heard the magpie riot. I cycled by, taking a look. Many black and white feathered friends occupied the bushes of a yard, with several pairs of crows quietly perched high in the trees above. Something about that didn’t sit right with me. The crows sat like Statler and Waldorf high in the balcony just waiting for something to go wrong.
I heard a squeaky whine. Did the magpies have a squirrel trapped?
I turned my bike around and set it on the ground, moving closer to the fence. Several magpies had one of their own on the ground, attacking her. Once again, my mom voice emerged and I shooed the magpies. Their victim hopped over and shrunk into a bush, small wounds on her face.
Once again, I told the offenders I could stand there all day, when really, I just wanted to get back on my bike and enjoy my ride. A couple offenders tried to return and I waved them off. Most lost interest and moved along. A few crows remained, preening themselves in the treetops as if they were innocent parties. Nothing to see here.
A woman walked her dog along the path. I shared the story of the bullying birds with her.
“You can’t stand here all day,” she said. “It seems like her fate is sealed.” And the lady moved along.
I remembered the message of leaving others to their karma. Those sweet round dark avian eyes slow-blinked at me. She’d kept her eyes on me the entire time. I sent the little bird many blessings and chanted a mantra or two, and then left.
I find it one of the more challenging lessons: when to interfere and when to leave nature alone. It is always my instinct to protect and save nature. But when is it actually my path or my place to do so?
As I cycled along the pathway, I hoped the sweet magpie could move on and heal. I contemplated the symbolism in the two skirmishes I had witnessed in such a short time during my recent move back to the city.
The squawking, the bullying, the picking and pecking, the pinning-down, my surprise, annoyance and sorrow over these odd events. Why would they ever pick on one of their own?
If I consider it like I would a dream —where everything in the dream is a reflection of the one dreaming —the message seems clear:
Don’t pick at yourself. Never criticize yourself.
If I consider it within the climate of the events around me —in the midst of the teachers’ strike and postal workers striking… division, disagreement, picking sides and hurling insults:
Don’t pick at your community. Don’t pick at one another.
If we understood how truly connected we all are —and that what we do to one, we do to all —we would fall to our knees, begging forgiveness and open our arms wide to unconditional love… for ourselves and all beings.
In The Life Force Blueprint, I mention how damaging gossip is for your health. It leaks your life force energy.
When I studied the Four Tibetan Forces this year, that message was reinforced: talking poorly of others deteriorates their energy AND YOURS!
Don’t pick at yourself. Don’t pick at others.
If you want better health, better life outcomes, better vitality and energy, don’t pick at yourself. Don’t pick at others. Make it a practice. Make it your focus.
Don’t make me come over there and use my mom voice. Just stop it.
Love,
Stephanie
Dechen Drolma
Stephanie Hrehirchuk - Author 