The mourning doves are louder than during previous springs, their cooing in search of a mate replacing the cackle-screech of the Starlings of years gone by. We have lived in the same house for 34 years, the Starlings, a calming influence once the cacophonous clatter of their incessant bleating fades to nature’s back-clutter, are nature’s return on expectation. It is certain each year that they will come back; until, one day, it isn’t.
With age comes the opportunity to lessen expectations from mankind’s more temporal material world to something different. Life presents the prospect of redefining who we are and why we are. When Socrates said, “All I know is that I know nothing,” he deftly elevated his soul beyond the power of any hemlock potion in the stark realization that less is more.
What are your expectations when life leaves the body? We all will die; it is life’s only certainty. What are your expectations five minutes before the final transition? Five years? Fifty? The universe is in constant flux. Learning to rejoice in the world’s freshness requires a maturity of faith.
Please consider what life would be like absent expectations or creeds. Birds seem to live that way, and lord knows they’re happy, singing all the time as they do. Joyful contentment is attainable to all, as we traverse privations and suffering, marveling at life as it’s led.