I saw them today: two storks in a nest, returned from their long journey across continents. Their arrival felt like a quiet miracle, though they do it twice yearly without ceremony or hesitation. It made me think of how nature embraces difficulty without flinching. A flower bud does not question the energy it must expend to bloom. The stork does not second-guess the winds it must ride or the deserts it must cross. Nature leans into hard things because transformation depends on it. And yet we humans, so often aware and capable, tend to flinch. We talk ourselves into easier paths, safer choices, comfort disguised as reason. But then there are rare human endeavors that echo nature’s courage: pursuing a doctorate, for instance, is one of them. Like the stork returning home, we push through storms in search of meaning, and in doing so, we become something more.

I often think about what migration asks of a bird. It is not only the distance, though thousands of kilometers must be crossed, but the obstacles that cannot be reasoned with: storms, starvation, exhaustion. And yet, the stork flies on. Without a map, without a promise that the nest still stands. There is no applause at the end, no certificate for endurance. Just instinct, purpose, and return. How extraordinary, then, that so many creatures live this truth quietly. They teach us that movement is survival and that the hard path is not only necessary but natural. The stork’s migration is not a detour: it is its becoming.

To bloom is to risk. A flower bud must gather strength, convert sunlight into energy, split its protective casing, and unfurl, exposed and vulnerable. There is no guarantee of sun or rain or safety. And yet, it blooms. Not halfway. Not conditionally. Nature does not approach growth with hesitation. I have often wondered what happens when we do. We humans, gifted with foresight and fear, sometimes stall in our blooming. We settle for comfort or tell ourselves that the season is not right. But “life exacts a price for less than full participation” (Tarthang Tulku, 1978). The flower that refuses to bloom withers all the same, only quietly. So, too, do our unlived dreams, our unexplored paths. Nature reminds us that to be alive is to engage wholly, even when the risk is great.

Pursuing a doctorate was not an easy decision. It was not practical in terms of how other paths might have been and was not guaranteed to yield comfort or clarity. But it was a form of full participation. I chose it not because it was easy but because it was mine to do, challenging, uncharted, transformative. The work has asked everything of me: long hours, emotional endurance, intellectual risk, and an uncomfortable intimacy with doubt. But what would the alternative have been? A safer path, perhaps, but one that might have cost me the deeper reward of becoming who I am meant to be. This journey mirrors the stork’s migration or the flower’s bloom in many ways. It is not optional if one is to live truly. Like them, I have followed an inner compass, trusting that the nest I build through inquiry, persistence, and purpose will be worth the strain.

Now, I do not just see birds when I see the storks in their nest. I see endurance made visible. I see a life lived in alignment with purpose, not ease. They are not the same storks who left in autumn: they have been shaped by the journey, tested by distance, and returned with quiet resilience. I wonder if the same is true for me. Each season of doctoral work has left its mark, new calluses, new clarity. I am not who I was when I began. There is a humility in admitting how hard it has been, but also a strange pride in knowing I did not turn back. Like the stork, I followed a path I could not always see clearly, but I trusted that it led somewhere worth arriving.

Maybe nature does not do the hard thing for glory or recognition, but because the hard thing is the true thing. A flower must bloom. A bird must migrate. And for some of us, there is a call to think deeply, to write, to research, to build knowledge where there was none. The hard path is not a punishment; it is a privilege. To live fully is to bloom when it is time, to fly when the wind shifts. Watching the storks settle back into their nest, I am reminded that this, too, is homecoming. That we are meant to be changed by the journey, and that the hard thing we chose was never about the outcome alone. It was about becoming the person who dared to choose it.

Reference:

Tulku, Tarthang. 1978. Skillful Means: Patterns for Success. Berkeley, CA: Dharma Publishing.