The Snow Birds are back.

They are actually Juncos. They are a bird that migrates in to spend their winter here, hence their nickname. I know, when I see them, that the first snowfall is not far off.

I look forward to the arrival of the Snow Birds each year, I appreciate their company for the winter months. Most songbirds are long gone, having taken off for warmer climes. They won’t be back until March or April, even May, for some.

The Snow Birds scratch in the snow to access their food. I marvel at their ability to survive in the harsh conditions of our winters. They look soft and fragile, but they are actually very hardy.

As I get older, I catch myself thinking that I am fragile, and I can unconsciously begin to act “as if” I am, falling into alignment with cultural expectations for people of my age group.

I’m not recommending that we get reckless as we age, but I do think that we need to remember how many life skills we have, and how wise and capable we really are, from all the living that we have done. And, how hardy we are.

Sometimes I look at the Snow Birds and think that they must be having a hard time in the rigors of winter. And then I remember that they are built for it.

That is what I wish us to remember too: our hardiness, our resilience, our capability. We are built for it.

Today as I am walking, a glint of bright red catches my attention.

It’s a bright red maple leaf, amongst all the brown oak leaves, and I know that this was meant for me to see. On my walks, I am always eager to discover what life is showing me, right in the moment.

I particularly love the colors of maple leaves in the fall, and there are very few maple trees in my neighborhood. This one is a tiny seedling, with just the one leaf on it. But it is showing its colors brightly, and it delights me to see it.

My walks have become so much more enjoyable since I have become more engaged with my environment. Part of being more engaged is that I look for things to draw, and drawing helps me see better.

I think it is more than just seeing better, though.

I think it’s as simple as being very present to my experience, and not with my thinking brain, but with my heart.

It is a receiving, more than a seeing.

I believe that what is meant for us is given to us in every moment. What varies in our ability to receive is our attentiveness and our openness.

If we believe that life has an intelligence (and it is hard not to believe that, knowing that the acorn has oakness already in it), then why wouldn’t we have the intelligence that we need, for our full experience of life?

So I have been practicing receiving what is meant for me, in any moment. This is easiest for me to do when I am out on my walks, because I feel very connected with nature.

When I am in nature, it is easy for me to tune in and be present in the moment, and to see what is meant for me. In nature, it is much easier than it is in other activities of my life.

What is meant for me can come on any channel. Sometimes I see it. Other times I feel it or just get a sense of it, or a hunch. Sometimes a picture might come into my mind.

When I give myself whole-heartedly to my experience, and tune in completely, I become aware of whatever is being given to me, or meant for me, in any moment. I do this by surrendering any expectations or agenda that I might have in my mind, and I become a “fertile field” of awareness.

I think this is what makes me open and receptive to receiving what is being offered to me by life, in any moment.

So, I’ve been practicing this art of receiving on my walks, because that is where it is easiest for me to be present, aware, and receptive. Maybe someday I will be able to be this way in the rest of my life.

How do you tune into what is meant for you to receive?