Observing the birds during the Polar Vortex weather that descended on the South, and watching them deal with the dismal and rainy days following it, I was reminded of a poem by Walt Whitman that I loved as a teenager. Their behavior is definitely something to which to aspire–constantly living in the present moment.
I think I could turn and live with animals, they’re so placid and self-contained;
I stand and look at them long and long.
They do not sweat and whine about their condition;
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins;
They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God;
Not one is dissatisfied–not one is demented with the mania of owning things;
Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago;
Not one is respectable or unhappy over the earth.