There is something to be said for routine. For if one follows a routine for some time it is something akin to a chant. The drone of familiarity can allow us to see beyond the dailiness of living. When one walks a similar path every day, certain things start to become clear.

And so it is with the lamp birds. On a singular lamppost near our suburban park—it is there where you will find them. The local pigeons love this street lamp for reasons that remain a mystery. Of the myriad lamps that populate this town it is on this one that that they congregate every day. You will see them in the morning. They are still there at noon. It is right there where they watch the commuter traffic go by in the evening.

Often, during these routines of mine—daily walks, daily bills, daily blogs—I find myself talking aloud. "I need a break." "I need a vacation." "I need a change of scenery." I think that if I'm going to be a serious artist I need to see the world. But the lamp birds remind me that quiet miracles of mystery exist right in front of me. These birds would remain undiscovered to me without my daily walks. And while vacations are stimulating, grand, and exciting, they are not about quiet contemplation that can both celebrate and transcend the dailiness of life.