As I was doing some of the laundry in our backyard on a Monday morning, the sun cast its light on the pavement where I was standing. I bathed in its soft brightness and felt its gentleness enveloping my skin. In the midst of it was the sound of water coming from the tap; it was as if I could also listen to the sound of its every drop. The wind blew and the leaves of trees behind me sang. After all, doing the laundry seemed a part of the tune that nature played for me on that day.
While soaking myself in the musical daydream, suddenly something whistled across me. I looked for it among the tall trees. I averted my eyes to where the sound seemed coming from, but it was to no avail. Somewhere in between the thick branches and lush trees, I knew that a bird was singing. It was exceptional, its voice was lovely. It was perhaps the first time that I heard such sound coming from a bird. Back in Manila, the maya’s and pigeon’s are the only chirps and coos I am familiar with. And when I was still living in Saudi Arabia, the doves were almost everywhere, that everytime I would wake up in the morning, I would be saturated with their billing and cooing in front of our windowpanes. Oh, include the crow’s too, which I have heard in movies. Here in the Philippines, especially in the countryside, there are other kinds of birds that I haven’t yet seen or heard, not until that morning.
I continued to listen and appreciate its sound. And for a moment I stopped from what I’m doing to get its attention, but it was in vain.
I could hear it, but I could not see it.
It was a beauty that put my thoughts in momentary awe and wonder. I wanted to know what it is, what it looks like, how big or small, or even how cute it is. I wanted to see its feathers, the way it flaps its wings, or the manner that it flies away.
When we think of beauty, we always want to have a perception of the physical appearance. But beauty, in all its sense, could also be just heard. Or felt. Or blindly loved.
Beauty is perfection in an imperfect world, a refuge of loveliness in a chaotic and sometimes monstrous entities. And bien sûr, it is not demanding! It is as it is, the simplicity and nature of what we are. That is exactly what I love about nature- its very nature.
True beauty is the kind that no matter how you hide it, it will always be revealed. Like the anonymous fellow that came whistling for me (I guess), its beauty didn’t go unnoticed or unrecognized, in fact its melodious voice prevailed among the other beauties that captivated my senses. And it was in fact, natural. As humans were made to speak and laugh and cry and shout and hum and make every sound possible for the vocal cords to do, then birds were also meant for the same. There is beauty in what our nature makes.
Since it was “invisible”, I just took a shot of the likely place that it was probably perching on. And since the sound of winds and the shine of the sun kept on wooing me, I continued appreciating them. Well, more so the One that I can’t see. God is beautiful.