The Inner Monologue

Thinking Out Loud

The Hummingbird Paradox: A Lesson in Knowing What’s Real

Let’s talk about hummingbirds—those tiny, hyper-caffeinated helicopters of the bird world. They’re a biological absurdity, really. To survive, they need to slurp down roughly their body weight in nectar every single day. And yet, somehow, they existed long before some kind-hearted human decided to hang up a red plastic feeder shaped like a spaceship.

So how did they do it? How did these feathery sugar addicts not just exist but thrive before humans came along with our artificial solutions? The answer is simple: They did. Because they had to. Their existence is proof that it’s possible, even if you can’t quite wrap your head around the logistics. The universe doesn’t owe you an explanation—it just keeps humming along (pun very much intended).

Now, let’s flip this metaphor on its head and talk about metaphysics—or, as I like to call it, the hummingbird problem in reverse. You’ve got that one cousin (we all have one) who insists that crystals align chakras, that thoughts manifest reality, or that the universe is just vibing in a way that defies all known physics. But here’s the thing: Unlike hummingbirds, metaphysics doesn’t actually have to exist for anything else to function.

Hummingbirds are a necessity—they pollinate, they fit into an ecosystem, their existence is demonstrated by the fact that they exist. Metaphysics? Not so much. The universe doesn’t collapse if you stop believing in energy healing. Your laptop doesn’t run on good intentions. Reality doesn’t care if you vibrate higher.

So here’s the snarky takeaway: If something exists, it doesn’t need your permission or your understanding to keep existing. But if something only exists because people keep insisting it does—with zero evidence, zero necessity, and zero impact on the actual world—then sorry, Karen, your spirit guides are just imaginary friends for adults.

Hummingbirds? Real. Your astrological birth chart determining your dating life? Not so much.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go refill my feeder before the tiny winged tyrants stage a coup.

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