By: Emily Marschner
There are peacocks roaming the streets of Hume Lake. When they first showed up, it was quite a novelty to our little community. We’d dare each other to see who could get closest to (or even touch) one, we’d try and get the male (who is no longer with us, RIP), to stretch out his colorful plumage, or attempt to squawk in their native tongue in hopes they’d squawk back. We’ve seen all kinds of wildlife up here: bears, foxes, mountain lions; but never a peacock. There are lots of small-town-rumors of their sudden appearance: they were blown in by Hurricane Hillary; they made an elaborate escape from the Fresno Zoo to live a quieter mountain life; or, more likely, but less exciting, they were dropped off by their former owners. Regardless of which story is true, the delight of having such an exotic animal strutting around our woodland town has diminished almost completely.
I’ve been rudely startled awake in the early morning by their incessant honking (or even worse that haunting, vibratic howls), they’ve left droppings on my porch as if to say, “I’ve graced your dwelling with my presence. You’re welcome.” What’s arguably worse is they peck at my Cosmos flowers, leaving nothing but a little, yellow tuft of pollen on a stem, the pink and white petals lying pathetically on the ground like over-used confetti. In the brief weeks that I delighted in these strangers, I now despise them to a greater degree. If you have peacock recipes, send them my way.
They’re cocky, you know? It’s like, they really are beautiful birds, but I just don’t like their attitudes; their haughtiness makes them much less becoming. And yet, I can empathize with these feathered snobs. I’ve found myself in similar situations, trying to prove my importance or value to the world, trying to live in places I was never meant to dwell.
This year, the theme of our Creative Arts Conference is from Psalm 37:3:
“Trust in the LORD and do good; dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness.” (Emphasis mine.)
There’s a kind of art that says, “Look at me! Here I am. I’ve come to grace you with my presence. You’re welcome.” And leave behind nothing but a pile of– well, you get the picture. Then there’s another kind of art that offers a hospitable hand. That kind of art is done in love and points us Homeward. It may be a painting that makes you gasp with a revealed truth that you’d not yet known. It may be a song that gives words to the grief you couldn’t articulate. Perhaps a poem that sends rushing waters to your desert-ridden soul.
We are all creating something, all the time. (Yes, you ARE creative!) Perhaps it is a poem, or a painting. Or maybe it’s a grilled cheese sandwich you made for your neighbor who’s out of food. Love isn’t flashy, and I would argue that what we create shouldn’t be flashy either. Flashiness and beauty are not the same. Flashiness is drenched in self-promotion. Beauty points us to what’s better. Flashiness is fool’s gold, beauty is True.
For all you peacock enthusiasts out there, please don’t get me wrong. I know it’s not really their fault for being here. It’s just that these birds are dwelling in the land that was never allotted to them. We can’t cultivate faithfulness when we’ve neglected the good plot of land that’s been given to us. If the land you’re dwelling in is dry, water it. If it’s packed full of weeds, till it. If you have pesky neighbors near your plot of land, bring them a grilled cheese sandwich. Cultivate faithfulness; beauty is sure to abound.
The Hume Creative Arts Conference is going to be something special! Click the link below for all of the details.
Emily Marschner has lived at Hume for 18 years, working in various departments. She also works at Hume Lake Charter School and recently illustrated a children’s book. She loves living the mountain life with her husband Lucas and their kids, Clara and Everett.