A Hint to Feel Lucky in Love

How is your loving going these days? How do you practice growing it? Here's one way.

Lately this winter I have been waking early. I come downstairs to sit in my sunroom looking north across the bare trees in my little yard and watch the morning begin. I hold a cup of tea against my chest and let my slowly healing concussed brain wake at its own pace.
If I'm lucky, I'm early enough to watch the birds wake up.
The crows are first.

There is a winter roost to my west where hundreds of crows settle together for the night sharing stories and loving in their noisy, alien way. I have happened upon 3 winter roosts of an evening in Portland. One downtown. One on a steep slope by Johns Landing and the one near me on 19th and SE Oak. 
​Lucky.

In the morning just as dark turns to gray, but before colors are bright, the crow parade begins.
A group of 10 or 20 race high above my yard from west to east. If I'm lucky I'll be gifted to catch the friskier ones play tag along the way. Then empty sky. Then five, or three, or seven. Then two. Then one. And one. And one.
The sky lightens and little songbirds that my neighbor feeds flit between my small, budding magnolia and the asian pear tree. They hang out for  awhile, then the squirrels bound their giant selves through the branches.
​If I'm really lucky, a little later a group of 20-30 crows will have their coffee break in the bare branches of a tree 2 blocks over.

Once last summer:  The crows have moved out of their winter roosts and into their own nests, I make friends with a young crow in my back yard. He caws and I say, "Good morning." We have quite a conversation for several days. He swoops above me, not too near. His mother keeps watch.
Then it rains and I think I've lost him.
The first sunny day after that long rain, I ride my bike down my driveway and turn up the street. A crow swoops low across the front of my bike and lands forward to my right, cocking his head, looking at me.  "Good morning!" and I feel lucky.
Four hours and 2 stops later, I'm leaving a friend's house several miles away to head home. He swoops and lands exactly as he had earlier. We greet each other. If crows could smile, his smile would be amused.

​I love crows. I love their mischievous, raucous, cautious, sleek selves. I've always wanted more than they give.
​
But lately I've come to this:
from a lesson that Kisma Orbavich posted from her teacher.
​
Love + Attachment = Selfishness
Attachment - Selfishness = Love
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​And I feel lucky.