We Are to Be Dead Birds, But Not Today

Look both ways before crossing the street Space Travelers.  This evening, while driving home, a squirrel darted into the road.  The car about 20 ft in front of me in the lane to my left prevented the squirrel from making it all the way across.  I made for a hasty retreat, but  Johnny Freedom Karr was headed right for it.  I could not stop, nor did I have the maneuvering room to turn.  I saw the squirrel flatten down just before its small frame disappeared behind the horizon of JFK's hood.  It was hard to tell if the squirrel would be clear of my wheels.  After passing over, I looked in my rear view mirror.  I saw nothing.  It vanished.  I was relieved.  Twice before, I've struck an animal...


...Both were birds.  


One instance stands out in my mind.  I was on my way into work one evening, and two birds swooped down.  One went too low and I struck it.  I heard the soft sound.  I'd swear I could feel it in my hands through the steering wheel.  I know that's very unlikely, but when it happened, I felt like it  struck my heart.  I was pierced.  

As I drove, I looked back in the mirror.  I saw it laying in the road.  One wing up in the air.  It was beating its raised wing with a terribly frantic rhythm.  That, or it was already dead, and it was the wind that simply moved the bird's lifeless wing.  As I slowed to the stoplight, I continued to look back in the mirror.  The second bird landed next to dead or dying bird.  It hopped around with its head down looking at the wounded bird.  I'm not one to anthropomorphize animal behavior*, but I couldn't help but try and put myself in the bird's head.  Did it know what had happened to the other bird?  Did it feel sad?  Did it hate me for killing the other bird?  I pondered things like if they were mates, and what our chance cosmic encounter could mean.  Did they have a nest?  Eggs?  How long would the bird stay there by the dead bird before it flew off?  Would it return to that spot later, or would it leave and never think of the spot or occasion again?

The light turned green.  I could not stay there.  I drove on, and as I left, I saw the bird still there bouncing around looking at the ground.  The scene faded from view, but not from mind. Thoughts of this bird would be in my head all day while I worked.  

This was life.  This was nature--It was not cruel, but indifferent.  In my life, I'll have to be the dead bird only once, but all have to be the surviving bird numerous times over.  I think the terror is that I realize I'm more prepared to die than to deal with death.  To mourn is agony.  It is not beautiful.  So while I'm not the bouncing bird, I'll still have to fly away; I'll still have to still go when the light turns green.  When death takes my friends and family, I'll have to keep moving.  I can't stay arrested on the side of the road trying to understand it, there may be no answer.  I can't just stay angry and blame something.  I can't simply regret this... regret that.  I'll be a dead bird one day, but until then, I can't use my life just staring at the earth.

*Space Traveler Fact:  Anthropomorphizing is reserved for electronics and vehicles.

Chapter 31, Verse 1: Take-Off, Death, and Taxes

Good Evening Space Travelers. I've been flying around a lot lately. I have recently been to San Diego to visit family and most recently to St. Louis for a wedding. I was supposed to go to Vail, Colorado, but I missed my flight. Stupid me, but I didn't lose any money on it. All this taking off and landing has increased the frequency in a activity I do when I'm on planes.

I acknowledge my mortality.

As the plane takes off, I think about it crashing. It is something I think about every time a plane takes off or lands. I thought about how this could be my last moment alive. I felt okay about things. The people I love, they know I love them. I felt pretty free and at peace.

I guess to me, mortality is more than death. When I'm acknowledging it, I'm not just digesting the idea of no longer being alive. I'm thinking of myself in terms of the finite. I do not believe in an afterlife, nor reincarnation. This is my one life, and so when I think about mortality, I think about what I'm doing with my one life.

Often, after thinking about mortality makes me feel like I need to give more. It makes me inspect my relationships. I take a snapshot in my head of whoever I'm thinking about as the wheels leave the ground, and when I land, I make sure to contact them in the week to see how they are.

If I'm to trace this back, I think it goes back to my father. He always told me to treat everyone like it was the last time I would see them. It wasn't some message of impending doom nor was it as morbid as it sounds. It didn't inspire guilt either. I've just wanted to live free of that kind of burden.

It would bee terrible of me to leave others with an unresolved feeling if (for example) we had an argument. I wouldn't want someone to have to feel that way.

Benjamin Franklin says that only two things are for sure in life: Death and Taxes. Having said that, in 2010, I'm celebrating my annual tradition of putting it off until the very last minute.

And just because I felt like it, here is some more flash art courtesy of Facebook and free time.