Years ago, in Canada, when we would go for a walk in the woods in winter, we always carried a small bag of seed in our pocket. There is a certain kind of bird there that is more tolerant of humans, and when we would hear them calling nearby, we would put some seed in the palm of our hand and wait. Often, after a moment or two, there would come the startling miniature thunder of small wings, and a tiny bird would suddenly perch on the platform of our hand and help itself to some food.

This delightful, delicate moment of exchange was possible because we were still. Movement, speech, and even thought and breath were turned off, to allow perfect freedom to the rhythm of our guest.

Hazrat Inayat Khan says that our efforts to offer the Message should be like this. There are many hearts in the world that long for the vibration of harmony, of spiritual beauty—but if they are aware of your presence, they will fly away. What is more, most birds will not even come to the hand; they are too wary. The seed must be scattered where they can see it and we must withdraw. Therefore, a great deal of the work of spreading the message must be done quietly, invisibly, in an unseen way.

What does this mean? Each person will find their own way of working, but it could mean: giving without labelling the gift, being kind without claiming to be kind, offering without expectation of recognition or return.

The hope—and the more brightly it shines, the more we realise that it is not our personal hope—is to give nourishment, not to claim or tame those who receive it. If some lose their caution and come closer, they are welcome, of course, but the Message is given to all, not just a few. It is not our property, nor are the results ours to tally up. As Hazrat Inayat says in Gayan, Gamakas:
I work simply, not troubling about results.
My satisfaction is in accomplishing the work which is given to me, to my best ability,
and I leave the effects to the cause.