Why We Hide, and What a Hummingbird Taught Me
It's raining, and the majestic mountains stand silhouetted by clouds and fog. Rain falls lightly, nourishing the dry earth. My forest family surrounds me. My home holds me comfortably. I am safe. I am loved. I am supported. I am protected.
My mind worries anyway.
Annie Dillard said, "The world unraveled from reason." I believe it. I live it. Moment to moment, my world unravels as I analyze, judge, worry, predict, anticipate, and imagine the worst—even when I'm perfectly safe in this moment.
All this overthinking keeps me from acting, from creating. It consumes my energy and slips me into paralysis. I want to shut my eyes to it all, and I do. Like a child playing hide-and-seek: if I can't see them, they won't be able to see me.
The Ache of Remaining Unseen
It's not safe to be seen. Worse yet, I'll reveal myself and still not be seen. Better the pain of hiding than discovering no one wants to see me. That would be devastating—or so a part of me believes. Like the quick of a fingernail bed with no protection. Just save myself from that pain by not revealing anything. Stay hidden. It's safer that way.
I wonder how many feel this? I suspect countless do. I see the magazine smiles pasted on people's faces and their perfectly curated social media accounts. I see the pain behind their eyes. I feel their guarded hearts. I can almost see the wild machinations of their minds. I suspect I see so clearly because of my own experience of it.
Most everyone I encounter is heavily guarded. No wonder we live in an epidemic of loneliness. We've become excruciatingly disconnected and separate. We try all manner of things to fill the void left by our disconnection—chasing money, success, legacy, power to utter exhaustion and dissatisfaction. Alcohol, food, sex, drugs, endless consumption. Nothing satisfies. Everything leaves us emptier.
In the entrepreneurial world where I work, there’s relentless pressure to optimize every aspect of life. My clients spend tens of thousands of dollars only to find they’re still unhappy underneath it all.
I was reflecting on this pattern when a teacher appeared.
When the Hummingbird Appeared
I live surrounded by mountain forest on three sides and a mountain vista in front. For three days, while sitting on my front porch each morning, a tiny hummingbird has come right up to my face, asking for food. Day after day, she shows herself to me and asks.
I hadn't hung my hummingbird feeder because this forest is full of bears, and I don't want to attract them to my house. But this little hummingbird demanded to be seen. No shame, no guilt, no hiding, no pretense, no overanalyzing. Just simply showing herself and asking for what she needs. Asking me to partner with her.
So I decided to fill my hummingbird feeder, set it out during the day, and bring it in at night.
In return, she offers me her incredible beauty, courage, strength, tenacity, resilience, and resourcefulness. I learn from her. She's preparing for her great journey south across the Gulf of Mexico. I want to help. And she wants to share her beauty and help me learn—learn how to be seen, learn to ask for what I need, learn to offer the beauty I have.
I can't express my delight in her presence. So tiny! Finding her way through a difficult world with such grace and beauty! She exemplifies the good, the true, and the beautiful. She is nothing but herself, fully, completely, shamelessly. She doesn't apologize for who she is, what she needs, or what she has to offer.
Why should I? Why should you?
Her unapologetic presence makes me think of what we've lost.
The Grotesque Demand for Conformity
Michael Pollan said, "Nature is busy creating absolutely unique individuals, whereas culture has invented a single mold to which all must conform. It is grotesque."
It is grotesque. I want to revolt. In many ways, I have revolted. I've gone against the grain of what my family, religion, and culture expected and even demanded. I'm freer and happier as a result, but it's difficult. We all want to belong, and when this culture tells us belonging looks one certain way, it's hard to resist. It can feel easier to hide our true selves.
But is it easier? Is it not soul-sucking? Empty? Despairing at times? "Is this all there is to life?" That's often the question my successful clients ask, even when they have everything this culture claims they need to be happy.
This culture's promises are hollow. Deadening.
But there's something else available to us.
What We Actually Need
We need connection. Connection with ourselves, with one another, with this beautiful Earth, with the Great Mystery—what some call God, others call the Ground of Being, Source, the Universe.
We need the courage to show ourselves. To reveal ourselves honestly, compassionately. To witness one another graciously with a desire to understand rather than judge. To see Earth again in all her beauty and acknowledge the damage we've done. To approach the Great Mystery again with curiosity and openness.
We need the courage of the hummingbird. The willingness to show ourselves without apology. To ask for what we need without shame. To offer what we have without pretense.
The hummingbird doesn't wonder if she's worthy of food. She doesn't analyze whether I might reject her. She doesn't hide her hunger or her beauty or her need. She simply is, fully present to this moment, trusting that what she needs will be provided.
The Risk and Gift of Being Seen
What would change if we approached our lives with this same shameless presence? If we stopped hiding behind our carefully constructed personas and showed up as we are—flawed, beautiful, needy, generous human beings?
So many spend enormous energy maintaining facades of having it all together. They optimize their schedules, their diets, their productivity systems, but they won't risk the vulnerability of being truly seen — understandably given what this culture demands. They've confused performance with presence, achievement with aliveness.
But the hummingbird knows something our culture has made us forget: you can't receive what you need if you won't reveal who you are.
“You can’t receive what you need if you won’t reveal who you are.”
This doesn't mean broadcasting every thought or feeling. It means showing up authentically in your relationships, your work, your creative expression. It means trusting that your true self—not your polished version—is what the world needs.
Every morning now, I sit with my coffee and wait for her. She comes, feeds, hovers near my face for a moment as if to say thank you, then flies away to prepare for her impossible journey. She reminds me that being seen isn't just about receiving—it's about offering the gift of our authentic presence to a world starving for real connection.
What if the very thing we're afraid to reveal is exactly what someone else needs to see? What if our vulnerability gives others permission to be vulnerable? What if our authentic presence is the antidote to the epidemic of loneliness plaguing our culture?
The hummingbird will soon leave for her journey across the Gulf. But her lesson remains: show yourself, ask for what you need, offer what you have. Trust that there's room in this world for exactly who you are.
Because there is. There always has been.
“Show yourself, ask for what you need, offer what you have.”