all about the owl
- rallies (except the pep rallies in high school. don't.even.ask.)
I prefer to detach and observe...to wait and assess, to listen first and then to leave. I have always been this way - even for something worth getting worked up about - I fear getting caught up in the crowd more than the cause that may/may not need my passion.
Consider it the well-learned lesson imparted to me by such teachers as Victor Hugo, Harper Lee, William Shakespeare. I cannot be a part of a mob - even if the mob is good. Believe me, I thank god not everyone is like me. (but it's unfair when others cannot see that they should be thanking god not everyone is like them.)
Instead, I must spread the melancholy, nocturnal wings of my burrowing-self and stretch into the hot, black gusts of night wind.
Full-well realizing that, to others, it looks like I do absolutely
I am lazily perching on my branch,
making nothing but long eerie night-songs,
darting my eyes back and forth in superiority
It's not so.
simply not so.
However, I cannot believe that any one man can save the world. (i have little patience for or interest in political dramatics, but I read a blog today that literally said, "I will stop worrying, and just sit back and wait for obama to save the world.") This sentiment appalls and scares the holy shit out of me. Not because of obama, he MAY be the best of two choices, but because I cannot get worked up and put my hope in any one change, any one human, or any one dollar bill (or $700 million).
do not think this is a post about the election.
it's just my thoughts.
i have been freaked out by everyone's freaking out about the economy as well. ("there is nothing to fear but fear itself.") but like my owlish self, i sit back, observe and try to cling like hell to these branches of truth:
~my life is temporal;
~ i can and will learn to live with little or nothing;
~america becoming a lesser nation may not be the worst thing in the history of man's existence
~deciding to hope in something other than the transcendent IS akin to acquiescing to having my small, spotty (newly-discovered) wings forever clipped.
i will fall from my perch,
and will get eaten alive
by predators unknown.
(ask yourself, is this what you want by demanding all to become involved? this is the result of asking people to go against their nature, their call, their existential purpose)
I TRULY believe each little and big bird has his place in this scheme - and so many birds need to be heard and shrill their voices to the mountain tops, protect their nests, soar in courage and demand for the hunt, BUT...this is only me saying:
"dear other birds, let me be myself...whooooooo i am. and i will do the same for you."
"and then i will hunt you at night."
because there is nothing more distasteful to my carnivorous beak than the intolerance of proselytization. so when you find yourself swept up in the rhetorical shouts demanding you, "tell your friends!!," (as if a vote has salvation power) just for a second...forget that i am your friend.
and then remember again and let's soar.
after all, i'd rather fly together than talk any day.
~the burrowing owl - because the female is a little darker