"Neither the hummingbird nor the flower wonders how beautiful it is."
~ Unknown
It's difficult to think about stability when the world feels anything but stable. Maybe you’ve felt it, too—the persistent tug of uncertainty. The unpredictability of life can feel overwhelming some days and requires a moderate degree of resilience. Lately, though, I’ve been finding unexpected inspiration in the smallest of creatures - the hummingbirds that zip and flit around my backyard feeders.
I never planned to be someone who names birds. And yet here I am, with two feeders—one outfitted with a tiny camera—and a growing roster of hummingbird companions. Luna has a crescent-shaped white spot on her throat that gleams in the sun. She’s a little warrior, chasing away anyone (like me) who gets too close to her feeder, even birds twice her size. Then there’s Prince, with his regal splash of purple that shimmers when the light hits just right. He’s a more relaxed presence, letting other birds, like a golden-headed verdin or a bright crimson-throated hummer, take a nip or two from his feeder without too much fuss.
At first, I started watching them for the simple joy of it. However, observing them made me want to learn more and so I did a bit of online research. What I learned about their tiny, intricate lives taught me things I didn’t expect.
Hummingbirds are, in a word, resilient.
Their lives are a delicate balancing act—these birds are always just a few hours away from starvation. Their hearts beat over 1,200 times per minute, and their wings blur at 50 beats per second. To sustain this kind of energy, they have to eat almost constantly, sipping nectar or snagging insects to survive. And yet, they don’t seem frantic. They don’t seem afraid. They’re masters of adaptation, finding ways to thrive no matter the challenges.
Luna’s stubborn determination to hold her ground and Prince’s quieter generosity make me think about how I approach chaos in my own life. Stability, I’m realizing, isn’t about eliminating instability. It’s about creating pockets of certainty—moments where you can rest, recharge, and feel grounded even when the world keeps spinning unpredictably.
When I watch Luna’s persistence, I’m reminded that there are times to stand firm. Her size doesn’t matter; she owns her space and defends what she needs. It’s a good lesson for me as someone who sometimes struggles to assert boundaries. Luna seems to know instinctively what I’m still learning - it’s okay to claim your place in the world.
And then there’s Prince, who’s taught me something different. His calm, almost laid-back attitude reminds me that not everything has to be a fight. Sometimes, it’s okay to let others in—to share the sweetness, so to speak. In my own life, I can get so caught up in trying to control every little thing that sometimes I forget to leave room for spontaneity, for connection, for grace.
I find myself reflecting on the balance these tiny birds strike every single day. They don’t stop to question the enormity of their challenges; they just adapt. When a strong wind knocks them off course, they adjust mid-flight. When one feeder is empty, they seek out another. They don’t dwell on the uncertainty of tomorrow. They simply keep going, finding rhythm in the chaos.
Watching them has encouraged me to seek out my own stability in small, intentional ways. Maybe it’s as simple as starting my mornings with coffee and word puzzles to wake up my brain. Maybe it’s calling a friend when the weight of the day feels too heavy. Or maybe it’s taking a cue from the hummingbirds themselves—making space for joy, for sweetness, for moments that remind me that even in an unstable world, there’s beauty to be found.
The camera on my feeder catches these moments of quiet wonder. It captures Prince in mid-flight, his wings a blur of motion and the verdin perched delicately, his feathers catching the light. They are here, in this moment, fully present. And maybe that’s the real lesson: stability isn’t about controlling the chaos. It’s about finding ways to be present in it, to live in the mess and the beauty at the same time.
The world is always going to feel unstable, but perhaps, like the hummingbirds, we can learn to hover in it anyway—graceful, resilient, and endlessly seeking the sweetness that sustains us.
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