On my path between my trailer and the gate to the outside lies the body of a Robin. I have not picked it up and disposed of it yet. I have thought about it several times, but I have left it there. Why?
When I first saw it, it reminded me of my own death. In death, that Robin gives me something. I have learned that this world, this weird and strange place, full of dark loneliness and bright miracles of friendship and love, acts on me in dreamlike ways. It offers me these tidbits, because I can't eat much, my mind is too constricted; it feeds me carefully, little bites.
I am sorry for all the times I have not stood my ground and for fear of being belittled; have laughed at the discomfort of another Human; the butt of jokes or other viciousnesses. I am sorry for all the times when I held back and not told a person that I just had the thought that I appreciate them. I am sorry for all the times when I have kept quiet for fear of being laughed at by small-minded, provincial bullies and their games of one-upmanship. I am sorry for all the times when I hadn't told the assholes that they are twisted dwarfs and trolls, dripping with slime. Mostly, I am sorry that I have not stood next to myself and offered encouragement to my own true self.
I am crying as I write this. I can't see through the tears. I will leave that Robin there until I have learned all that I can from a dead master.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
About Me
- roberto kiam borderlineartist@gmail.com
- I live in a quaint, little town, plagued with the specter of speculation and commerce. I am trailer trash,with wishes for good dishes. I shoulda died long ago, but like a rescue dog, didn't. I am indescribably scattered. I speak three languages. I walk a tenuously, true path. I am lucky. For myself, for others. God, it is said, protects orphans, widows and the innocent.
6 comments:
It looks like you've already learned one. Thanks for sharing this.
Something similar happenned here in the fall. One day we noticed a bird on the banister of the gangway that had the weirdest behavior, he wouldn't fly away as we passed by. He was just strangely quiet. The next day he was lying dead on the parking lot. I remember it affected us both. I somewhat sort of didn't think of birds as mortals. This guy just went quietly. My first true grief at someone's death, my mother's, years ago, did leave me with that impression that death participates in the same phenomenon as birth: the miracle and mystery of life. In this sense I think both are beautiful, with all their unexplained things, and it's probably good that they are left unexplained, a good lesson of humility for us humans, something we can't control...
i saw the fattest robin i have ever seen outside my window yesterday. it was truly a very fat robin. it was doing a little flamengo dance along the snowy trail and its name was gidabelle, a first cousin to annabelle.
I have a friend who lives in the country with his wife and kids. One rainy fall morning said wife and daughter (Cassie) were preparing to set off for school in the family car.Cassie tugged on her rubber boots and hat and prepared to step out the front door with Mom in tow. Standing in the doorway ,door ajar Cassie looked down and on the stoop and there lay a decapitated dead robin. Cassie turned to look up at her Mom and with hands on hips declared " Darn that cat, that was a perfectly good robin"....
I was recently turned on to the concept of 'inscape' devised by a Jesuit poet named Hopkins.This loosely defined is the intrinsic relationship between the 'inner' landscape of man with the outer landscape of the natural world.
Everything,all parts large and small,sensed ,felt,shared in this world play a part in a puzzle
composed of wonder ,fate,concious and unselfconcious knowing.As the cat catches the bird, the bird surrenders it tiny soul so as to play out its part in the condition of existence all.
When we stop to consider the beauty and brutality of nature it gives us pause to ruminate on the true meaning of life and death.
With that I highly recommend the film 'The March of the Penguins'.
wow, whoever you are, thank you for that delightful comment.
Gida, it is easy to be generous with the money, knowing that the check is going to bounce anyway.
Yes Monsieur Klam, regarding rubber money, I anticipated such; however, I make my small but somewhat steady income from an electronic check service that bounces it back into my pocket with the speed of superman's cape in a March wind.
Post a Comment