Dead Bird Head

Running in the rain

Working hard to be here now

Wet branch slaps my face

This morning as I headed out for a run, I began walking to warm up. I kept my gaze downcast allowing internal information to register about how I was feeling, what muscles felt tight and so forth. I looked up and noticed it was beginning to rain. No matter. I often find comfort in rain. The drizzle, the clouds are like ques giving me permission to slow down and go at my own pace.

When feeling great doubt

One can often find answers

Sitting with nature

So I breathed deeply allowing my lungs to fill with the moist Spring air and then exhaled just as deeply. All the while my gaze was on the sidewalk about three feet in front of me. Something caught my attention and I had to go back and investigate it. Whatever it was, I was drawn to the familiarity of the colors and shapes that sort of blended together as I walked past. Yet, it stirred something deep within me and triggered memories.

Images of dead baby birds that had fallen from their nests were called forth to make sense out of this blurred mass I passed on the sidewalk. I used to see this every Spring as a child. On occasion, I would find one alive and try to nurse it back to health, feeding it any seeds that I could find accompanied by worm pieces that I gently shoved down their throats. I now know that I definitely contributed to the deaths of these birds. But my intention was most certainly to save them.

Upon backtracking about five steps and bending down, camouflaged in the moist, brown, muddied sidewalk was the head, and only the head of a little brown bird. It's eyes were closed. It was ant food now and I watched an army of them entering and exiting the red flesh spewing from the severed neck. I felt the same compassion that I used to feel as a child when I would see hurt or dead animals. That in itself was an interesting observation because I have to say that it has been a very long time since I have viewed the world in such a way. Somewhere between these memories of Springs past when I was 7-10 years old and my now 34 year old mind, I have quite successfully managed to seperate myself from the experiences of the life, death and suffering of animals in the wild. My logical mind would attribute this to a better understanding of nature, and of how life cycles and food chains work. My intuition tells me it has more to do with wanting to separate myself from my own death experience.

In this decapitated bird head, I felt my own ending. I didn't see it. I didn't rationalize it. I felt it. It was frightening. I kept all of these thoughts with me as I began to run. I thought that it must also be true that I could see my beginning in this very same moment in space in time, simultaneously. I thought about the ants and the many beginnings that were embodied in this dead bird head. Interconnectedness. Why do we work so hard to separate ourselves? Is it so that we can get more done? Understand more? Experience more? We just gloss the surface of true understanding and get on with the next thing? If we are so comfortably separating ourselves from these subtle, more intimate parts of nature, what else are we so eager to separate ourselves from?

I kept running. I kept noticing new layers of this settling into my consciousness. As I ran, I felt when I was truly in the moment that my running, my breathing were effortless. I felt almost as if I weren't actually breathing in air or feeling my feet hit solid ground. I felt as though I was particles of matter existing and floating around within the particles of what makes up air. Okay. That was strange. It was also beautiful.

Even more strange was noticing that every single time I became aware of this and became almost self conscious of it, it ended and I felt the effort of my breathing and my muscles again. Which, I don't mind telling you was kind of comforting. But, I was and am still curious. I allowed myself to drift back into the moment again and again. It was as if I were a baby in the womb, not needing to breathe air because I was enveloped by a force who was doing the breathing for me.

I realized that my reality, is not a true reality. What is true reality, does not truly belong to me or anyone else. It exists all by itself and can be observed only without judgement. Whenever, I became self conscious of my awareness or had any feelings of "Oh shit this is blowing my mind" or "This is freaking me out", it was as if I was taking the reality of the Universe and trying to make it my own. I felt immediately tired and was able to run less successfully. Good endorphins? Maybe. Finding deeper meaning and understanding? I hope so.

All of this coupled with a Mother's Day picture done in "Braille" and breakfast in bed made by the hearts and hands of those that love me most has made for a day that feels immensely satisfying. Now excuse me while I get back to the moment.