American Kestrel : A Foot in Both Worlds

This is an American Kestrel. It’s the smallest falcon in North America and one of my very favorite birds. One of her cousins graces the cover of my first book. Kestrels very frequently take advantage of human-created infrastructure from which to hunt, utilizing “another world’s” creations for their own benefit. This bird bridges both the natural and the created world; she has her back to us as she departs our power line and enters, soaring into her sky. This is the moment she transitions from one world to another. It is a moment filled with strength, and grace, and expectation. She effortlessly demonstrates belonging in that liminal space.

Jewish tradition teaches of many pairs of worlds juxtaposed one against the other. There is this world, Olam HaZeh, paired with the World to Come, Olam HaBa. In the Talmud - and today’s newspapers - there are debates over Torah scholars devoting their time exclusively to the world of study, versus the material world, earning a living and providing for their families. And allocating our time and focus requires us to decide explicitly whether we want to inhabit the world of the individual or the world of our community. Each of these worlds complements its companion, and each pair is in internal tension as well. Ultimately we are forced to consider for ourselves these questions of belonging.

These are not easily reconciled dilemmas. Many of us - in 1,000 ways - feel as though we move through our lives with a foot in two worlds. Our footing can be unsure. At times we belong neither here nor there; other times we feel drawn to the place where we happen not to be. And most challengingly of all, some of us lack the comfort of being in our own skin, where even our own self is an alien world we struggle to inhabit. So where precisely do we belong? As the Talmud says, “let it remain unresolved.” The Kestrel reminds us that even in the transitional space, we can belong - with strength and grace - with a foot in both worlds.