The Yule Tree Blue Jay

My 12 inch Yule Tree. The onion next to it reinforces how tiny it is.
My 12 inch Yule Tree. The onion next to it reinforces how tiny it is.

I was outside just now, doing physical therapy in the crisp winter-lush air, when a bluejay perched on the pinnacle of a 40 foot evergreen. Sat there, centered exactly at the apex. Til then, my little indoors Yule Tree (12 inches high, I made it by sticking  branches into Oasis) had no star or angel on top. Now it does, in my mind’s eye. Where it has also suddenly become a much bigger tree. 

When I do what Divinity asks—in this case, physical therapy and getting some fresh air, despite the 30 degree weather—I am sent gifts. 

Foolish jay, in its prideful residence over all, sat gloriously beautiful. Birds in nearby trees screamed. Were they jealous naysayers who attack God’s messengers, try to derail bringers of wondrousness, and distract us from such joy and beauty?  

It does not matter. God is all. I know this some moments. But I quickly forget, and then terror overtakes me, terror about finances, naysayers, and being such a crip that I cannot even wash my own dishes. But right this minute, I know God has my back.  

I have been wanting to sing praise to my Gods recently, actually sing praise. So I wrote a praise song.  

If you’ve been harassed about—or otherwise brutalized by—religion, someone singing “My god is beautiful,” or otherwise singing about how cool their Deity is, can seem like obnoxious, intrusive proselytizing. This would be the case whether your song calls Divinity “God” or “Goddess,” “Great Eagle ” or “Universal  Goodness,” or “Oh Great Pagan God Fred.” 

But when you sing the words directly to your god (as opposed to a human audience), when you sing praises to God as if a lullaby to a sleepy child, or a love song when courting a lover—it feels amazing. You may want to try it. It is visceral muscular prayer, and connection and relationship. We all love praise, even God. 

Now I’m going back outside—I interrupted  my workout to hobble inside and write this blog. While I exercise, I’m going to sing praise, sing to   Divinity. In addition to the song I wrote, I might improvise a tune to the blue jay story. We all like to be sung to, even God.  

If you liked this personal story and my musings, there are more in my new book Share My Insanity. And because it’s a book, it can go in-depth personal, and bring you on a journey we travel together that, paradoxically, becomes uniquely yours. It’s an easy book to fit into a busy life; some readers say a snippet of it fills them up, then they can go about their day while they apply or digest what they’ve read.

This entry was posted in Art, Writing, and Music, Community, Spirit, The Whole Thing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Yule Tree Blue Jay

  1. Maureen says:

    Ever notice how two of our most vividly colored birds, the Blue Jay and the Northern Cardinal, stay with us all winter? It’s as though they were made for the snow, that its purity gives their colors space to shine, like sapphires and rubies on a drift of white velvet.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.