Little Birdie in My Hand

Little Birdie in My Hand: The Power of Prayer

Noisy miners are monogamous and form lifelong pairs. It is heartbreaking to witness these character-filled creatures being forced to part ways—often due to traffic and other dangers of urban living. On this particular day, I had a unique, heartwarming experience of seeing two lovebirds reunite in their lifelong companionship.

It had been a long day—running errands, making pick-ups and drop-offs, shopping, and handling the essentials of life and business. I had a few collections to make at Officeworks on this particular day.

After leaving the Officeworks store and driving about ten minutes toward my final stop, the organic grocery shop, I suddenly realised I had forgotten to pick up a brochure stand for my flyers. I had already paid for it, and my mind began to banter: Will I have to pay for it again? I had already signed off on the collection, but should I turn around now? It had already been such a long day, and all I wanted was to finish up and go home.

Frustration and agitation bubbled as I thought about returning to the Saturday afternoon traffic build-up toward Noosaville, just as I was heading home to the peaceful ambience of the Hinterland.

Then, a voice inside me whispered, "Just do it." My hands instinctively twirled the steering wheel, and just as I started to pick up speed, I saw a flash of a small bird darting toward the road. It dove down in front of me, then shot back up, narrowly missing my windscreen. Phew, I felt relieved that I didn't hurt it as it passed so close.

I noticed something on the road that the bird had been diving toward, though I couldn't quite make it out. A knot of concern tightened in my chest as this may have been the bird's attempt to "resurrect" its beloved. Once again, I twirled the steering wheel, pulling over, somewhat surprised at the transparent way of twirling on quite a busy road.

I ran across the road and picked up the little bundle of feathers. To my surprise, I felt warmth, life, and the gentle yet frantic movement of the tiny creature's heartbeat—despite the dire circumstances, I felt so happy and surprised! It's alive!

I jumped into my car with the little birdie in my hand. Joy remained present, and this elevated sensation supported me in what was to come. I closed the door and windows to avoid any distractions. I focused on the soft feeling of feathers in my hand and the consciousness breathing life into the tiny feathered body. I felt a sensation at the centre of my forehead—beyond any activity of the logical mind, a calm intuition to share the Divine Mother Healing Prayer as taught by the great Yogi Master, Paramhansa Yoganandaji.

I did not take a photo of the birdie in hand as I did not want anything to disturb its healing state and our connection. 

I sang the prayer several times with a continuous mood of deep inner joy and a strange sensation of peace. In those moments, I gained some perspectives on life. Did it matter whether I turned back to get the brochure stand or not? Did it matter if I was charged twice for it, or how much later I would now arrive back home? No, these issues are nonsense now and such trivial frustrations. What matters is the heartbeat of this divine creature, this moment, right now, with the little birdie in my hand.

The time felt right to open the car window for fresh air and familiar sounds. The bird started to make its way onto its feet. It then jumped across the seat to perch on the rim of my shopping basket for a few breaths and then further onto the side window ledge. Now, I felt it was permissible to take a photo. It sat here for a little longer, perhaps observing the experience it had just had and the opportunity to fly free once again and reunite with its beloved friend and companion. 

Witnessing this small miracle—this tiny creature, once inert, fragile and vulnerable, now perched safely, full of life and energy—was a gentle reminder of what truly matters. As the bird fluttered away and reunited with its companion, I felt deeply grateful for the experience of connection, grace and the unexpected lessons it had taught me—a symbol of resilience, love, and the power of quiet moments and prayer to heal and transform.