The Shape Of My Joy

What is the shape of your joy? 

In Kyo Maclear’s wonderful memoir, Birds Art Life, she refers to her friend Jack Breakfast and his cure for creative depression: "He had discovered his joy was bird shaped."

A few years ago, I think it was the month of June, I was walking my dogs through the local park during my lunch hour, when I heard a bird song for the first time. What I mean is, until that exact moment in time and space, this song had been nothing but white noise in my head, the soundtrack to a busy, distracted life. But on that particular day, for whatever reason, the universe opened up and it was like I heard it for the first time. Its melody was sweet and clear. Two notes in succession, repeated. I remember feeling fully aware in that moment and the distinct sensation of my heart lifting in my chest. I scanned the trees above to find the source of the music but to no avail. It was only much later, in describing it to Ian, that he identified it as a chickadee song. 

As it turned out, the shape of my joy was also a bird. And in discovering that joy, my life was permanently altered and I became a bird person.

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Late last night when I should have been in bed, I was busted by Ian as I edited a selection of the 500 plus bird photos I took during this past Sunday’s snowstorm (make that crazy bird lady). 

“What are you doing?”, he asked.

“Editing photos when I should be winding down.”, I replied sheepishly. I showed him the shot I was working on.

“Nice! I wrote you a poem.”, he said. “I sent it through messenger.”

“Really?” 

(As much as I love poetry, I especially love it when it’s written for me.)

Here is the poem:

My love loves taking photographs

The backyard birds are famous now

Her spirit animal

Chick a dee dee dee...

Little cuddly looking cuties 

that can't be cuddled

Cause they can't be still

If I were to describe a bird 

that most resembles her

It would be the chickadee

Predictably unpredictable 

Or unpredictably predictable

These little flitterfluff rascals

All puffed out against the 

fierce forces of winter

Flitting and quitting 

in acrobatic routines 

that never repeat. 

Peep peep

hard to photograph, a challenge

They don't sit still for long 

Not long enough to focus on. 

Always on to the next task

I'm waiting for my chickadee

To come home

— Ian Hanchet

And here is the photograph I was editing (the shape of my joy):

So tell me, what is the shape of your joy?