Be the Bird, Be the Key

Inspiration. Product to come. For now:


Little bird have you got a key?
Unlock the lock inside of me
Where will you go?
Keep yourself afloat
Feeling old until the wings unfolded
Caught me a long wind
Where will we go?
Keep ourselves afloat

I caught a long wind
A long life wind
I got to know the sky
But it didn’t know me
Got to see the light
And land on top of the sea
And be the bird, be the key
And now the current tells
What the wave withheld
And then the lightning say
Oh where light will lay
Where will you go?
Keep yourself afloat

I caught a long wind
A long life wind
Like a swallow
A night owl
A little chickadee
Sad sparrow
Good morning bird
Good nightingale
I took a deep breath
And caught a long wind

Her cutting clear blue eyes peered out her bedroom window, fingers tight, gripping the sill, toes just touching the vibrant pink shag carpet waiting beneath to catch the souls of her little feet. The screen pressed against her cheek as she craned her head to the left. A slight breeze energizes her blonde hair around her shoulders and face and forces a scrunching of her nose to happen so as not to use the hands so willfully keeping her hung from this white wooden frame to the outside world.
Only mere metal and glass keep her from the height of a great cherry tree in front of her. The chickadees dance around the soft pink blossoms that return the bird movement in their own subtle dance from the moist air gliding by. They give off a fragrance that sticks to the inside of the top of her nose. It's high tones open her airways but still are solid in their depth and bring this little scoundrel to a place of calm. She allows her eyes to take in all the sights in front of her now. The birds have become boring and the land below looks as if colour is oozing up from the center of the earth. The tones are strong and vibrant. The dew soaked ground is aching for sun from the afternoon rays. Those naive blue eyes graze over the yard that she knows as her kingdom. All the paths she has laid out, the half finished house she built and holds resentment for, the forest area she calls home, and this cherry tree brimming with what look like overweight black and white mice with wings and beaks. They flutter in front of her, flaunting their freedom in the brilliant and gentle colour of the flowers that bring her peace in her childlike thoughts of wondering.
Little did she know the crisp blue of her iris would slowly fold, in time, into a ring of dark grey, stark in its contrast, to a deep but soft blue that gives way to flecks of prairie gold and earth green.

I caught a long wind
A long life wind
Like a swallow
A night owl
A little chickadee
Sad sparrow
Good morning bird
Good nightingale
I took a deep breath
And caught a long wind


M.

This Too

Lady Love once gave a description of life to me. She said something along the lines of "I feel like my life is a bouncy ball and some kid is whipping it at the floor."
Depressing, maybe. Accurate? Definitely. It makes it worse that the picture of innocence and naiveity is what is causing the outbursts of kinetic energy.
My question is, why do we as humans, put our noses so close to the paper? Why do we have to make everything magnified to the point of catastrophic disaster over what is really, quite small matters of thought process?
Passion helps settle these thoughts. Passion for art, for yoga, music, love, friends, fulfillment.

Curiosity for life brings new light to bleak situations.

I was told recently that I take things too seriously. Quite a true statement in this context. There are certain moments where I over analyze the smallest of situation and it takes off from there. There are so many sayings that are applicable to this type of situation.
"This too shall pass" Is one that comes to mind. To keep in mind the inevitability of time is so important. The good, the bad, the emotional, the silly, the blissful, will all be gone. What do we choose to hold on to?

I read a story in a fantastic book about how there is this camp that help young people with intense feelings of loss and trauma. One of the excersizes is getting the kids to write their secrets on rocks and carry them around with them on a hike. At the end of the hike, they empty their pockets of their secrets and toss them into the creek. The person telling the story said how they were amazed at how emotional some of them got from physically letting go of their burdens . And yet, how some of them chose to keep these secrets with them. Taking them to bed that night and home on the bus the next day. Almost like if they let go of it, they would be letting go of themselves.

Now I know there is a lot of psychological words and names that could explain that but from the way I see it, people don't want to let go of what they see as events or times that make them who they are. If they let it go, there is an openness to them that is massive and unknown. There is a chance for them to become different and unstuck. For some reason, the human brain likes to lean towards being more like a brick wall than an open window. It can be so hard for us to let go of categories and mental lines that we draw for ourselves and allow people, society and life to draw for us.

The worst part about it all is that it takes work to become open. It takes effort to change. But it also takes effort to stay the same. So at least I know that the work is already there, it just needs to be displaced. Even just in little actions. Putting influential statements up on the wall where eyes can view it, making little positive choices in things like eating well or getting up when needed. The small things that form together is what makes life easier to do.

It will all be the same in the end, so why not make what we have worth it right now?

M.

Post Secret. The best way to feel human.