I often joke that if there’s such a thing as an afterlife, I’ll definitely come back as a swan. It’s my favourite bird. I love everything about it: the elegance, the quiet authority, the way it seems to float through the world like it already knows something the rest of us are still trying to learn.
Swans, though, aren’t native to South Africa. Mute and black swans exist mainly as introduced or captive birds. In a small way, I recognise myself in that as I’m not native to Finland either. Though definitely not a captive, I was introduced. And I had to adapt in order to make the place my home.
Another bird has been knocking at the doors of my dream-consciousness lately: the flamingo. I never thought I liked flamingos that much. They always seemed a little… full of themselves? A bit too posed; too aware of the camera. And yet there it was, returning again and again, bright and persistent.
Then one day, as I was reading the Marginalia newsletter, a flamingo appeared in a poem. The words found me exactly where I was. One thing I love most about poetry is that it doesn’t knock politely; it walks right in and sits beside you.
Before I knew it, I was deep in a rabbit hole, researching this bird. Flamingos are native to South Africa. The Greater Flamingo is widespread and found across parts of Africa. And as I read, I kept seeing the same qualities named again: beauty, grace, balance, confidence. And I thought, hang on! These are exactly the qualities I love about the swan.
Though both birds are vocal, there’s a difference that matters. The swan is serene and tends to exhibit profound emotional behaviours, like mourning its partner. The flamingo, on the other hand, is communal, loud and quirky. And what about that one-legged balancing pose?
Then—dang! Yoga. What? I hate yoga. It makes me angry. But my creaky joints and stiff body keep saying: girl, you need to get yourself flexible. So this is my word for 2026: Flexible. After a year of targeted focus, flexibility is the energy I want this year.
I’m practicing flexibility not just in the physical sense (though yes, unfortunately, also that) but in my days, and on the page. I’m making room for the small yeses — to soften where I’ve been rigid, to experiment and adapt, to not force neat answers before they’re ready — and see where I end up.
I once read that swans, with their famously long and bendable necks, have more capacity for curving and rearranging themselves without losing their shape. Maybe I won’t reach swan-level flexibility, but there will be movement with one small yes at a time.
Who knows! I might end up settling for a humble flamingo pose, just so I don’t fall flat on my face. I hope you stay with me.
As usual, I’d love to hear your thoughts. What are you making room for this year or where could a little more flexibility soften your life in the best way?
PS. The Great Tit is among birds that brave the Finnish winter. They are always nearby, flitting from tree to feeder, drawn by the tasty seeds. And I created the watercolour feature image using Canva AI.
