Trading in my wings for wings: Complex Regional Pain Syndrome and bird photography
Photographing from my scooter. Photo courtesy of Dwain A. Vaughns, II.
In 2016, my life that I thought I was to live hit a paradigm shift that I never saw coming. I guess the saying, “If you want to make God laugh, tell them your plans,” took on a whole new meaning. Every time I heard that I would think, “Well, that sounds mean.” Fast forward a few years, and it turns out it’s a laughing with you, not at you situation. In one day I became part of the disability community, wonderfully represented by Birdability, truly experienced humanity, and started a new life.
At eight years old I took my first flight lesson. I knew flying was what I was going to do the rest of my life. I was mystified beyond belief. How was I just suspended in the air? My fascination with birds had begun, but I had not realized that. Looking down from the window of the plane, over Atlanta, I could see my whole life: where I lived, where I was born. Places that I had seen so many times, but never from this perspective.
I put everything I had into flying. My family and friends put everything into helping me. Seventeen years later, it happened. I became an airline pilot and flew for eleven years. And that’s The End.
Or so I thought.
On that fateful day in July 2016 it felt as if the world stopped, and began spinning in a new direction. My injury resulted in a diagnosis of Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) in my right foot and leg. I could no longer fly.
Red-tailed Hawk. Photo by Dwain A. Vaughns, II.
CRPS is an enigma to the medical community. Two things are known: The pain at times can be immeasurable, and it really does a number on your nervous system. The two work together, creating what seems to be an apocalyptic cycle that creates more pain for yourself. After numerous therapies, surgery, and other interventions I was welcomed in to the Beyond Therapy program at The Shepherd Center in Atlanta. I don’t know if I had truly experienced gratitude until being there. Grateful for those who advocated for me, the experience, the therapists; they gave me my first opportunity to advocate for my new community. And they were the catalyst to my new-found passion.
Through the recreational therapy program at The Shepherd Center, I was given the opportunity to go on a bird watching trip hosted by Georgia Audubon. I always loved the outdoors, and I felt that had been taken away from me by my new disability. This trip not only gave me my introduction to birding, but the confidence that I could go back outside. Included were others with disabilities of different kinds and our caretakers. It was not all smiles though. My scooter malfunctioned and I could not do much more than sit at the visitor center and watch. Reeling with frustration and disappointment, I was ensnared into the limbo of the previously mentioned cycle.
Birding from my scooter with my cane nearby in case I need to walk a short distance. Photo courtesy of Dwain A. Vaughs, II.
Through the feelings of hopelessness I overheard a volunteer describing how to identify birds by their sound; wording the calls in to, “Cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger,” and “Drink your teaaaa.” I began listening for those calls. It was in that moment of silence and stillness, clearing out all of the other stuff around me, I found myself relaxing. What is going on? It felt instantaneous. I was calming myself down and my pain was receding. Was it just a fluke?
No. It was not.
Birding has become an almost daily practice. A meditative-mindful experience. For me, the only way I can really hear individual birds is to separate all of the noise: other birds, trees, city sounds, and thoughts. Thoughts are the driving force for a spiral into decline, like a plane in a tailspin. The birds keep me present, grounded, and aware only to the singular moment. They brake the stall. The birds are healing me.
Eastern Towhee. Photo by Dwain A. Vaughns, II.
Pileated Woodpecker. Photo by Dwain A. Vaughns, II.
Birding has become part of my daily life now. I became so enamored with their capabilities I began photographing them. I wanted to shoot that frame that slowed it all down. Full of action, but in that moment. It is in that moment I can appreciate that birds are the foundation on which every plane is designed. Their flaps deployed, pitch attitude changing, lift increased and decreased, landing gear out, for that perfect landing every time. That moment is where I now live my life. Capturing everything around me with a completely new perspective. Trading in my wings for wings.
