I am a highly emotional person. There, I said it. Why is
that hard to say? You see, culturally, many humans seem hesitant to celebrate
this quality in a person—maybe they have been raised to see emotionality as a
sign of weakness or fragility, of being “crazy” or easily affected by the more
trivial events in the world. Maybe they feel like they have to tip-toe around
someone they see as overly emotional or spend extra energy supporting them. The
way I see it, emotional sensitivity can be defined or displayed in many
different ways, but when it comes down to it, “emotional” people may feel elements of the world that slip by
the notice of others and recognize the beauty encapsulated in that moment or
fragment of life. Something I find myself combating is the notion that the
emotional response of sensitive people is centered around sadness, that if
someone is overly emotional it means they struggle with happiness and they are
sensitive to all the negative things in the world. This is not true. My strong
and “sensitive” emotional responses often
stem from a tiny moment of intense happiness, light-heartedness, and
exhilaration, of utter bliss. Simply seeing a downy feather floating on the
breeze, hearing the familiar rustle of a bird foraging in the bushes near me,
tasting the salt in the air as I crest the hill that separates me from the
ocean, feeling the warmth from the sun glance off the water and bathe me in a
little extra Vitamin D, or smelling the freshness of a small valley after a
long-awaited rain can inflate my heart with uncomplicated happiness and love. These
moments are not as visible or interpretable as the sad or difficult moments
that friends and loved ones offer their support for.
What does this have to do with the Island Scrub Jay? Not all
that much, except that they evoke a strong emotional response in me, the happy
kind. I find peace in their existence. I feel the intensity of the blue light
scattered from their feathers, from their chocolate brown eye as it
investigates me. Not always, not every jay I see. Part of being an emotional
person is that, thankfully, certain sensitivities are not always turned on or
engaged, and they can be unpredictable. Sometimes a jay is just a jay, but
other times a jay is a messenger of joy and love, a catalyst of deep
self-reflection and connection to the earth. A glimpse of color flashing in the
sun can send my emotions hurtling skyward for a moment, a sweet moment where I
appreciate exactly where I am right then.
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| The photos above are both Island Scrub Jay tail feathers above and below, also called rectrices (singular rectrix). |
So, today, tomorrow, and everyday, I am thankful that I feel
emotions strongly. I am thankful that my heart is beating. I am thankful for
the people in my life whose hearts beat with mine. I am thankful for the birds
surrounding me, thankful for their wing beats and heartbeats. I am thankful for
dirt, and salt, and grime, for sticks and leaves, and dried up fall flowers. I’m
thankful for breath, lungs to take it in, and the release I feel when I exhale.
I am thankful for language to express my thoughts and feelings, and I am
thankful for non-verbal language too, for body-language (however confusing it
may be sometimes), for eye-language, smile-language, bird-language. I am
thankful for my ancestors, my current kin, and the thought that there will be
more down the line. I am thankful for my friends and co-workers, for helping me
explore this world we all live in together, however different our experiences
may be. And lastly, I am thankful that this earth exists and that I get to be a
part of it: wind, sun, soil, rain, and love. Lots and lots of love.
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| Thankful for Forrest and Morgan's recent visit to the island. So happy! |
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| Sunset over Santa Rosa Island, San Miguel even further behind to the right. |
