Write Your Story: Amy Tan
Presented by the Leopold Writing Program in partnership with the Santa Fe International Literary Festival.
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"I, too, am part of [the baby titmice's] curricula. The young birds have always seen me as part of the yard. I am the flightless animal that sits by the big glass doors and sometimes comes out. They associate me with the arrival of mealworms and make loud tsika-tsika sounds before I’ve even refilled the feeders... At first, they waited for me to leave before jumping down and entering the cages. But some are now acclimated to my presence and enter when I am still refilling the bowls."
― Amy Tan, The Backyard Bird Chronicles How do you think the natural world views you?
If it could, what do you think nature would say to you or tell you about yourself? Share your answer with others in line or write your thoughts here. |
Submissions
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I am the flightless animal
Adria Winfield May 17, 2025 I am the flightless animal that sits by the big glass doors. I don’t fly; I observe. I peer through the glass doors at the life within. I bear witness to the indoor activities. But I cannot fly. I must stay here forever. I don’t mind. The big glass doors offer a window to a different world and for that, I am grateful. The Natural World
Anonymous May 17, 2025 The natural world views me as a helper. I “help” persevere the world in which we live. I share this space with others. Nature will say to “slow” down stop and look. I am not
Anonymous May 17, 2025 I am not of consequence as the world moves past me. Humans and animals, pants and the wind move gently around me . Never touching or making eye contact with me. I think it’s best this way. I don’t need to be remembered by this moment. I will join the line of my ancestors. My face will live in my children I would hope the natural world
Anonymous May 18, 2025 I love this prompt… I would hope the natural world - the animals of the natural world would nod to me respectfully from a distance - as I do to them - trying not to interfere with me as I try not to interfere with them. But it depends on which creatures - the mosquitoes would say, food!!!! The bear in my front yard that I banged pots and pans at - because it is the right thing to do - would say - alright, little girl - I will slowly walk away - I will go along with this charade, but I know, and you know , and I know you know - that I am much bigger and faster than you, but fine - oh and thanks for the bird food - hahahaha! Oh and remember - you live in my forest - not the other way around. And I would say in my head - I love you bear! I’m glad there is this glass between us! I wish I could cuddle you! And the land would say long-hushed things to each other - the trees in their slow conversation, never really noticing the small, quick thing dancing, then vanishing mid-conversation. |
The natural world is like a forlorn lover
Wendi Lee May 17, 2025 The natural world is like a forlorn lover who yearns for love lost and reconciled with us. Nature would tell us that we need each other to survive, thrive, and feel again. I weep when caught up in wonder or suffering
Meryl Marshall-Daniels May 17, 2025 I weep when caught up in wonder or suffering. Do they notice? When the tears appear the humans do. The insects and the birds are so busy I am not sure. The plants maybe as they call me to observe, they draw me out. They ask me to care, to water or to trim and sometimes to commune. I am learning to sense - to listen for the subtle feelings awake in the natural world, awakening in me. Is this true? I hope so and often I believe so and in some rare moments I know. I am learning. You are perfect
Y Journeay May 17, 2025 You are perfect and wonderful just the way you are. Nature views me
Susan Rhoades May 18, 2025 Nature views me as I view it, with curiosity. Nature would say, slow down, inhale, look closely and be. Stranger
Jolene Begay May 30, 2025 I am a stranger, I think. " You are a stranger," says the sheep as it chews its food. I ignore what I just saw and heard. It's been ages since I came home. This place is foreign and not. My Grandma sits on the porch, the summer sun beats down and I want to drink so bad, something I picked up in college. " The sheep are doing good this year," she says (in Navajo) as she shields her face with a newspaper. " What brings you back?" asks the sheep. " Summer vacation, no summer job back in Albuquerque, plus a need to come home and be with my Grandma and I guess all this," I say to the sheep. " Still talking to animals," says my Grandma. " What does he say?" " Asking what I'm doing back and that I'm a STRANGER," I said and eye-balled the sheep. " His name is Leonard," says my Grandma. " And Leonard, don't be mean. She's my Granddaughter, the center of my heart." " It's not Leonard," he says chewing. I look at my Grandma and wonder if anyone will love me with that much ferocity, romantically though. " You'll find someone," says Leonard-For-Now. " So you can read minds?" " You leave yourself open. So easy to read." I roll my eyes, " What am I thinking now?" " I'm too old to eat." I laugh, I would question my mental stability, my brain function, question if someone drugged me and I am hallucinating bad, but I am so horribly hungover I go with whatever this is, " I feel awful." " Stop drinking." " Yeah," I say and kick some dirt. My hands kind of shake. " Shaking is a bad sign. You're losing balance with all that is and was. Spiraling. You try and cover, but your Grandma knows and prays for you." I look at my Grandma. She is my history, my link to the past, to the ages before all creation, to the stillness of nothing and everything. Within her embrace I can feel the ticking of time and space; within her words wisdom to carry me far beyond eternity. " You're falling back to earth," says Leonard-For-Now. " What do you mean?" I ask. " You will always be tethered to this place, this dirt, these trees, this home, that Church Rock, the Pyramid Peak, these blue skies, the smell of rain at this your home; the Creator made this place with you in mind." " I don't feel like I deserve it." " Nobody does. We don't deserve to even live. We got lucky when our parents met, consummated, and we got born by chance. Can you imagine the odds of being born? It's in the trillions. Luck. You are extraordinarily lucky to have been born. Ain't that something?" " Yeah," I say. " You shall sing a different tune thirty years from now. Right now I'm spitting pearls before swine," says Leonard-For-Now. " Holy crap, I'll be fifty-one in thirty years!" " It'll pass in a blink of an eye," says Leonard-For-Now, "regard your purpose." 30 Years Later I wonder what happened to Leonard-For-Now. Never asked his real name and he stopped talking to me. Like my Grandma I sit on my porch. I read book after book, searching for answers. I did find true love and lost it in the most tragic of ways: massive heart attack, resulting from Covid pneumonia. I adopted a puppy. A Corgi to ease the pain and heartbreak. " Regard your purpose," said Leonard. I wonder if I have? I should have asked what my purpose was and if I was on the right path or road. Two months before he died, my husband took my hands to his chest and said, " You make me happy. I don't need anything else," and he kissed me. I said, " I love you very much, Mark," and gave his hands a squeeze, " I have a purpose, Mark. I need to find it." My husband chuckled and looked me in the eyes, he had oil spills for pupils, and he said, " I dreamt about a sheep named Norman. He talked to me, I know crazy, a talking sheep," he chuckled again and said, " anyway, that talking sheep said, ' Your purpose, Mark, was finding your wife. Love, true love, is a rarity. In the trillions.'" I looked at him. Silence. "What," he said. " Did he say anything about me?" I asked. Mark smiled, took a bite of his candy, “ Yeah. He said, ‘ Your wife is very smart. She’s going to do some pretty extraordinary things.’” So I sit here and read and read and read, searching for answers, clues the only way I know how, through books. “ Ahem.” I look up. My Corgi smiles a wolf-like, almost grotesque smile, “ Hello again.” |
