Sparrows in a Cherry Tree, Bruno Liljefors, 1885. Oil on wood. Collection of the Nationalmuseum, Stockholm. Photograph: Erik Cornelius/Nationalmuseum. Public Domain.
The Jungian symbolism of the sparrow—and what this small, persistent bird is teaching me about instinct, humility, shadow and becoming myself.
Recently, the monthly Archetype in Focus article from the Archive for Research in Archetypal Symbolism (ARAS) explored the symbolism of the sparrow.
The article centred on Bruno Liljefors’s 1885 painting, Sparrows in a Cherry Tree. In the painting, one sparrow is suspended in flight, its small feet extended towards a ripe cherry. Two other sparrows wait among the branches.
There is something almost childlike in the flying bird’s expectation. It is completely absorbed by the cherry before it. It does not appear to question its desire. It simply moves towards what attracts it.
ARAS connects this moment with the ancient theme of temptation: the tension between appetite and restraint, instinct and consciousness. Yet the sparrow carries more than one meaning. Across cultures, it has represented both lust and love, vulgarity and humility, commonness and sacred worth.
This contradiction makes the sparrow a surprisingly rich image of the human psyche—and a meaningful symbol for my own life.
A Small and Ordinary Bird
The sparrow is not usually considered majestic.
It does not have the power of the eagle, the mystery of the owl or the colourful beauty of the peacock. It is small, brown and familiar. We see sparrows in gardens, gutters, roofs, parking areas and around outdoor tables, waiting for crumbs.
Because they are so common, we may hardly notice them.
Yet sparrows are remarkably adaptable. They build their nests wherever life offers them a small opening. They survive close to human activity. They gather what is available and create shelter in unlikely places.
Perhaps this is part of the sparrow’s symbolic gift: it reminds us that the sacred does not always arrive through something dramatic or extraordinary.
Sometimes it appears in a small life faithfully lived.
I find this particularly meaningful as I grow older. Much of my life is no longer about proving that I can become someone important. It is about becoming more completely the person I already am.
My life is built through ordinary acts: entering my therapy room, observing a child’s sandtray, shaping clay with my hands, writing another paragraph, studying Jung, and planning my future centre.
None of these actions may look heroic from the outside. Yet together, they are becoming the nest of my next chapter.
The sparrow teaches me not to underestimate the small thing.
The Sparrow and the Shadow
The ARAS article describes the sparrow as an appropriate image of the shadow because of its contradictory symbolism. The sparrow has been associated with humility and simplicity, but also with appetite, lust and indulgence.
In Jungian psychology, the shadow contains the parts of ourselves that we do not easily acknowledge. These may include selfishness, envy, greed, anger and uncontrolled desire. But the shadow does not contain only what is “bad.” It may also hold our vitality, creativity, sensuality, courage and unlived potential.
The bird reaching for the cherry can therefore be understood in more than one way.
Is it being tempted?
Is it acting greedily?
Or is it simply responding to life?
This is an important question in my own individuation process. For much of life, especially as women, we may be taught to distrust our desires. We learn to care for others, fulfil expectations and measure our worth through what we provide. We may become uncomfortable when we want something for ourselves.
But not every desire is selfish.
The desire to create, to build a meaningful centre, to write, to study, to express my inner world through clay and to leave something valuable behind may arise from a deeper source within the psyche.
The task is not to suppress desire automatically. It is to become conscious of it.
I need to ask:
What is the cherry towards which I am flying?
Is it nourishing me, or distracting me?
Does it belong to my deeper calling, or is it an attempt to escape discomfort?
Am I moving towards life—or trying to fill an old emptiness?
Consciousness does not mean that instinct must be defeated. It means that instinct and reflection begin to enter into relationship.
My Tendency to Follow the Next Cherry
The image also speaks to something I recognise in myself.
I am deeply curious and creative. I become excited by new ideas: another article, a research question, a course, a ceramic project, a parenting programme or a new possibility for my Sand and Clay Therapy Centre.
This energy is a gift. It keeps me alive and growing.
But it also has a shadow.
Sometimes a new and shining idea appears before I have completed the work already in front of me. Like the sparrow seeing the ripe cherry, part of me wants to fly immediately towards it.
The problem is not the cherry. The problem arises when I move from one cherry to another without building the nest.
At this stage of my life, I am learning that inspiration needs structure. My dream of the Sand and Clay Therapy Centre will not be created through inspiration alone. It will be created through many small, consistent and sometimes unremarkable actions.
One page written.
One research case carefully documented.
One financial decision made.
One room prepared.
One commitment completed before I fly towards the next possibility.
The sparrow does not build its nest in one grand gesture. It carries one small piece at a time.
Perhaps I can do the same.
Survival, Adaptability and Beginning Again
The sparrow’s ability to flourish in difficult and imperfect environments also touches something personal in me.
My path has not unfolded in a straight line. I have known loss, disappointment, financial pressure, self-doubt and the painful recognition of patterns that once shaped my choices. I have had to learn where I tried to buy love, acceptance or belonging, and where I abandoned myself while trying to keep a connection.
Yet, like the sparrow, I have continued gathering what life offered.
A fragment of insight.
A conversation.
A book by Jung.
A child’s sandtray.
A piece of clay.
A dream.
A new boundary.
A small act of courage.
These fragments have gradually become the material from which I am building a different inner home.
The sparrow does not wait for ideal conditions before it begins building. It works with what is present. This does not mean accepting harmful circumstances or settling for less than we need. It means recognising that life can be renewed from the materials already available to us.
I do not need to have everything resolved before I begin the next chapter.
I only need to find the next small piece and carry it home.
The Sparrow and Belonging
Sparrows are often seen in groups. They live near one another, call to one another and gather around shared sources of food.
This introduces another layer of symbolism: the relationship between individuality and belonging.
Individuation is sometimes misunderstood as becoming independent of everyone. But Jungian individuation is not isolation. It is the process of becoming more fully oneself so that one can enter relationships without losing oneself within them.
The sparrow belongs to the flock, but it must still fly with its own wings.
This speaks deeply to my own journey. I continue to value friendship, mentorship, professional community and the people who support my work. I do not want a life without connection. But I am learning that belonging cannot require me to surrender my own centre.
I can receive support without giving away my authority.
I can love without abandoning myself.
I can belong to a community while still listening for the direction of my own soul.
The Sacredness of the Common Life
One of the most beautiful things about the sparrow is its ordinariness.
It suggests that a meaningful life does not have to be spectacular. The Self may reveal itself through the smallest and most familiar images. A sparrow, a vessel, a handful of sand or a child’s arrangement of miniature figures may carry something that the conscious mind has not yet found words to express.
This is also what I witness in Sandplay.
A child may choose a tiny bird without knowing why. We should not immediately impose a fixed interpretation upon it. The meaning of the bird depends on the child, the tray, the surrounding images and the unfolding therapeutic process.
Yet the symbol may carry possibilities: vulnerability, freedom, appetite, community, survival, humility or the wish to escape. Over time, its personal meaning may begin to emerge.
Symbols do not give us simple answers. They invite us into relationship with the unknown.
The sparrow asks me to look again at what I have considered too small, too ordinary or too late.
Perhaps the ordinary life is not separate from the spiritual life.
Perhaps making clay vessels, sitting beside a sandtray, studying one paragraph carefully, writing one honest reflection and preparing a future place of healing are all expressions of soul.
My Sparrow Reflection
At this point in my life, the sparrow seems to say:
Do not despise your small beginnings.
Do not be ashamed of your desire to live, create and contribute.
Do not allow every new temptation to scatter your energy.
Build your nest one piece at a time.
Remain close to the earth, but do not forget that you have wings.
The sparrow does not need to become an eagle to fulfil its nature.
And perhaps I do not need to become anyone other than myself.
My task is not to create the grandest life. It is to inhabit my own life consciously—to recognise my appetite and my shadow, honour my calling, accept my ordinary humanity and continue carrying each small piece towards the home I am still creating.
That may be the quiet wisdom of the sparrow:
A small life, fully inhabited, is not a small life at all.
Reflection Questions
- What is the “cherry” towards which I am currently flying?
- Is this desire connected to my deeper calling, or is it distracting me from something I need to complete?
- Which part of my instinctive nature have I judged or pushed into the shadow?
- What small piece can I carry today towards the life I am building?
- Where can I belong without surrendering myself?
- What ordinary part of my life may contain more meaning than I have recognised?
Source and Acknowledgement
This reflection was inspired by the monthly ARAS Archetype in Focus article, “Sparrow,” featuring Bruno Andreas Liljefors’s painting Sparrows in a Cherry Tree (Sweden, 1885), together with sparrow images from ancient Greek and Japanese art.
The historical and archetypal background regarding the sparrow’s associations with appetite, love, humility and shadow is drawn from that ARAS article. The reflections on ageing, creativity, individuation, Sandplay and the building of my future centre are my personal response to the symbol.
References
Archive for Research in Archetypal Symbolism (ARAS). (2026). “Sparrow.” Archetype in Focus monthly article. ARAS Archive
Liljefors, B. A. (1885). Sparrows in a Cherry Tree [Painting].
Moon, B. (Ed.). (1997). An Encyclopedia of Archetypal Symbolism. Shambhala.
Larousse Encyclopedia of Animal Life. (1967). Hamlyn.