Miniature Burst of Lucidity

I don’t ever wear red, but today I am. Outside the apartment complex there was a freshly dead baby bird on the windshield of my car this morning. The bird lay on its stomach and there was a drop of blood where it’s beak touched the glass. I picked it up and wrapped him in an old scarf. I prayed a short prayer for the bird. Behind me parked a truck. Two young men appeared from within the truck and unloaded a series of boxes. On the side of the truck it read ‘ We’ll get you there, fast’,  

But I want to get there myself, I thought. Death comes when you least expect it so I stay alert to my mortality on the daily. I have developed a practice to remind me. I have a mantra that returns me to myself, so that I can pierce through all the clouds of illusion circling the light of my sun. At first it felt grim and sad and unfortunate, to be thinking of death amidst the vast creation of life. It still does. But now I am aware of the one truth I have assured. I have always been a seeker. But most truths are subjective, and unless I have experienced them personally, they are of little interest to me. I look for what I can absorb and transform into my being, the things that give me value during my days on this plane, so that I might be less confused as to my place in the world. Otherwise what’s the point?

I closed up the scarf, dug a small hole, place the body inside, and said goodbye to my fellow earth dwelling voyager, whose life had come to an end. This special guest reminding me to keep a soft grip on life. I noticed my fingers had picked up some blood and dirt in the process. I washed my hands before leaving for work, my mind already on the tasks of the day.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s