Let today be the day you face it!
Good day to you.
I am so glad that you are joining me on this dewy spring morning. I have been watching you between these branches for some time.
Perched up high in the tallest oak tree in Melbourne, you can forget the complicated world that you belong to.
You know enough to know that you understand very little at all, but up here there exists a perfect marriage between your curiosity and all the things unknown.
You may be wondering how I am so perceptive with humans. I often wonder the same thing.
Most birds concern themselves with speckles of bread abandoned on grassy planes, skyscrapers, or the first flight away from our mother’s nests … yet I cannot help but be entranced by the plastic world beneath my wings.
Before I divulge any more of my observations, take hold of that oak leaf above your head and remove it from its branch.
Careful now, don’t fall … slowly… There, you reached it.
Please, sir, tell me what it is like to touch nature for the sake of feeling something new and perfect. My claws only snatch at mangled twigs and my beak thinks only of food, not of obtaining new experiences.
I have never been able to simply touch.
Go on. Close your eyes! Let your thumb and forefinger feel the morning dew as they rub against its surface.
How wonderful to experience nature not for survival, but for pleasure. What a complex human experience, masked as simplicity.
Tell me. What does it feel like?
I was pondering this question last night when I noticed a lady in the apartment across from us talking to a ceramic ornament who she called ‘Harry’.
She was kneeling and crying and holding this object in the palms of her hands.
She kept crying ‘I miss you’.
Then she began throwing things around and screaming questions at the walls, which I must admit, even I hadn’t yet pondered.
‘Where are you! Where have you gotten to!’ she cried. ‘Are you there at all? Or do you only exist within my heart and mind? Please be more than a dying memory!’
Then she sobbed for the rest of the night. Her blinds have been drawn all morning.
What do you make of this?
That is an interesting reply.
I have never wondered what will become of me when this oak tree is no longer here, or when I have dissolved into the earth.
Do humans wonder what will become of them?
All the time? How interesting.
Sometimes I think it is far better to live the prohibited life of a bird, even if it means that we cannot have complex experiences.
For I suppose that once you know what it feels like to touch, then you have all the more to long for when that pleasure is taken from you. Once you understand how little you really know, then you have all the more to attempt to account for.
I apologise in advance if I am ruffling your feathers, but I cannot help wondering who is better off between you and I?
I have always envied the luxuries afforded to humans.
I have been watching you, and it seems that you have never gone hungry in all your life. Your existence is filled with pleasure, luxury and spiritual enlightenment… states of the mind I cannot enter myself.
And yet the more you learn, the more you invent, the emptier, the more … preoccupied … it appears your specie becomes.
Are you still holding on to that oak leaf? Keep it. It appears you need it more than I.
Good day to you.