The Birds Singing - What did the birds say

"It’s a Friday afternoon. Roughly 5 p.m. The sun hangs low in the sky, flirting with the horizon, painting the air in hues of gold and rose. Summer is humming, alive with its own rhythm. And me? I’m shutting down. I lie on my bed in my little bush nook, tucked away in a quiet corner of Pretoria, Suwanne, the capital of South Africa. Here, surrounded by the whispers of nature, I feel a stillness—a pause. The birds are singing to each other, their melodies dancing through the warm air like old friends catching up after a long week. As I listen, my mind drifts to Louis Giglio and his guerrilla-style theatrics. I can’t help but remember his powerful illustration from 13 years ago, showing how the whales of the deep and the stars of the heavens join forces in a cosmic symphony to sing, How great is our God. And oh, my heart can’t help but hum along: Sing with me, how great is our God, Oh, we’ll see how great, how great is our God. Or in Hebrew, because the spirit speaks every language: Kado, Adonai, Shiyuki Kado, Adonai, Awechat Lehi, Ki Kado, Aloai. And while these words echo in my mind, my brain becomes its own orchestra. I can feel it, lovelies. In the right frontal corner, the violinist is busy, taking in the melodies, the meanings, the magic of the moment. The information bounces across to the left side—the logical side—asking questions. Birds chirping...what does it mean? What’s the symbolism of birds? To the right side again, the whispers of the soul: It’s Shabbat. It’s Shabbat. To the left side: What do we know about Shabbat? What are the traditions, the archives, the theories? And the birds—they keep singing, a conversation unbothered by my internal chaos. In that instant, my mind feels alive, like a child on a trampoline, bouncing higher and higher. Or better yet, a kid on a jumping castle—idea, grow, idea, flower, idea, spread. It’s an explosion of color and sensation. Each thought blooms like a wildflower, releasing its aroma into the air. And I don’t stop it. I don’t analyze it. I don’t try to categorize it. I just let it swim. I let it all swirl together—memories, melodies, sensations—until they’re one beautiful, chaotic symphony of being. Isn’t that what life is, my darlings? A tapestry woven of fragments, some orderly, others wild, all coming together to create something breathtakingly whole? In this moment, lying on my bed, surrounded by the whispers of birds and the hum of Shabbat, I feel it. I don’t just hear the song of creation—I am part of it. The sun, the birds, the stars, the whales, the heartbeat of the earth—they’re all singing together. And I? I’m singing too." "Last year, 2023, I started my year with the most beautiful visualization dream. It was vivid, alive, and left me breathless. I was in this huge tidal pool by the sea. Not just any tidal pool—no, this one was magical. It was protected yet wild, calm yet vast, with water so clear it glistened turquoise under the tropical sun. There was a deep end, and we dove in, holding our breath as we plunged into the cool, refreshing depths. Like playful dolphins, we would dive down, swirl around, and shoot back up, leaping into the air as if gravity was a suggestion, not a rule. It wasn’t just swimming—it was dancing. We became ballerinas of the surf, pirouetting through the waves, soaring up and over each other, only to descend back into the embrace of the water. When we had our fill of the depths, we moved to the shallow end to snorkel. And what we discovered there—oh, my lovelies—it was otherworldly. An underwater Atlantis revealed itself, a hidden world teeming with