One Bird’s Breeze is Another Bird’s Hurricane

Different people can face the same set of circumstances and have completely different experiences.

My husband and I experience traveling in a car completely differently. He’s an exceptional driver who raced go karts before he got his driver’s license. I have PTSD from a bad car accident and scream if I see brake lights anywhere in the distance.

This makes it challenging because our work as national hotel photographers requires us to drive tens of thousands of miles together. The only thing I hate worse than driving is flying.

Learning how to communicate through challenges such as this is why I decided to start this newsletter. In the Bird Brain archetypes, he is an Owl and I am a Hummingbird…let’s imagine the situation from their points of view.

ONE BIRD’S BREEZE IS ANOTHER BIRD’S HURRICANE

The day is dimming as Mr. Owl emerges.

Throughout the day, he has been in a state of restful alertness, his large eyes closed but his keen ears  ever attentive to the  rhythm of life outside of his hollow. Like all owls, his day was spent in a form of meditation...his mind processing the events of the previous night's hunt, consolidating memories and preparing for the challenges ahead.

Occasionally he might shift his position, ruffle his feathers or even open his eyes to peek out at a particularly loud disturbance. But mostly, the owl remained still, conserving his energy, his slow heartbeat and relaxed muscles a stark contrast to the frenetic daytime activity outside his home in this hollowed out tree.

As the day progressed, the owl's internal clock ticked steadily towards evening, his body gradually becoming more alert, his mind sharpening. By the time the first hints of dusk painted the sky over Eagle's Bay, the owl was ready to start his work, his night-adapted eyes blinking open, his head swiveling 270° to survey his domain as he prepared to embrace the coming darkness with wisdom and purpose.

As he made his way onto a branch, his unlikely friend, Nora, the tiny neurosparkly hummingbird, lands beside him ready to complete her day.

Since the first light of dawn, Nora had been a blur of motion, her wings beating up to 80 times per second, darting from flower to flower in a constant quest for nectar.

Her day was a whirlwind of color and movement, her keen eyes processing visual information at an astonishing rate, her brain making split-second decisions to navigate between blooms and evade potential predators. Her heart, racing at over 1,000 beats per minute, had been powering her through countless aerial acrobatics - hovering, diving, and even flying backward with precision.

Now, as twilight approached, the hummingbird had gulped down one last swig of the nectar her incredibly fast metabolism demanded. One final rush to consume enough energy to survive the night. With the fading light, she began to slow her frenetic pace, her body preparing for the nightly torpor - a state of deep rest where her metabolic rate would plummet, and her body temperature would drop dramatically.

In these last moments of daylight, as Mr. Owl stirred to life, the hummingbird sought a safe perch, her tiny form finally becoming still, ready to enter a nightly state as close to hibernation as her species would allow.

Suddenly, a strong wind gusts through the forest, catching both birds off guard.

Mr. Owl, his feathers barely settled from his emergence, feels the forceful breeze ruffle his plumage. His large, sturdy form sways slightly, but his talons grip the branch firmly. With a slow blink of his huge eyes, he adjusts his wings, using the wind's force to settle more securely. The disturbance is momentary, a mere ripple in the owl's composure, his meditative day having prepared him for such unexpected events.

For Nora, the hummingbird, however, the same gust is nothing short of catastrophic.

Her tiny form, already transitioning from frenetic activity to nightly rest, is caught completely unprepared. The wind throws her violently off her precarious perch, sending her into a frantic tailspin. Her wings, so precisely calibrated for delicate maneuvers, beat desperately against the overwhelming force. She tumbles through the air, a glittering speck of panic amidst the shadowy trees. Her heart, slowing from its day-long race, now pounds with renewed vigor as she struggles to regain control.

In this moment of shared disturbance, the stark contrast between the owl's steady resilience and the hummingbird's frenzied reaction highlights their fundamentally different ways of experiencing and responding to the world.

The owl, drawing on his day of restful alertness and wisdom, weathers the gust with calm acceptance. The hummingbird, her resources depleted from a day of constant motion, finds herself at the mercy of this unexpected challenge.

Yet, in this brief instant of chaos, there lies an opportunity for understanding between these unlikely friends. The owl, witnessing the hummingbird's distress, might gain insight into the intense vulnerability that comes with a life lived at such a frenetic pace. The hummingbird, once she regains her stability, might appreciate the owl's unflappable nature born from hours of patient observation and contemplation.

As the wind subsides and equilibrium returns to their shared branch, both birds have experienced a profound lesson in empathy - a visceral understanding that the same events can impact different beings in profoundly different ways, shaped by their nature, experiences, and the rhythms of their daily existence.

Meanwhile back in the Subaru…

As much as I would love to tell you that after 15 years of traveling together, my Owl husband and me the Hummingbird have learned those profound lessons in empathy, the truth is that criticism is hard.

My screams and screeches sound critical to him. He is objectively a great driver. The only reason I haven’t been in two terrible car accidents is that he grabbed the wheel and protected  from the second one.

My response is like many wives whose husbands are more confident drivers (one might say aggressive). I would like for him to allow more distance from the car in front of us but I can honestly tell you that it wouldn’t matter. He has never had a wreck. He is a safe driver. He is just as interested in not crashing our car as I am.

I instinctively react even if the brake lights I see are miles ahead. My response is physiological and is a direct result of my PTSD. No amount or reasoning and logic will make me calmer. No amount of nagging and begging will make my unreasonable reaction logical.

At the end of the day, we find ourselves at cross purposes. I need his compassion and understanding that my reaction is not a reflection of his driving. He needs my respect and acknowledgement that he’s not putting us in danger…sometimes there will be a car somewhere on the road ahead of us who feels the need to brake.

So what do we do about it? What happens when nobody is wrong? Sometimes it just is what it is.

I started my writing with the goal of explaining my system for Failing Fabulously and framework I call Get to No University.

I quickly realized that the concepts and vernacular I have used are simply my own way of dealing with the world through the lens of my own undiagnosed/late diagnosed Neurosparkle.

My goal in writing is not completely altruistic. Sure, I hope that my writing will help other Neurosparklers. I hope that by identifying your Bird Brain, we will all come to: 

• Understand our unique set of Strengths, Traits, Idiosyncrasies, Quirks and Skills…your STIQS as I call them.

• Embrace our Neurosparkle

• Stop apologizing for what we can’t NOT do.

• Learn to communicate with grace, compassion and curiosity instead of criticism and judgement.

“They” tell me my brain is disordered. But what “they” don’t understand is that I have created my own sense of order and self preservation.

I’m excited to share the fundamentals of Critical Thinking for Neurosparklers. In my next post, I will talk about the fundamentals of Neurosparkle and explore a revolutionary idea. What if instead of apologizing for our quirks and idiosyncrasies, we choose to identify our Bird Brains and embrace our Neurosparkle.

Thanks for joining me on this journey.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​