There’s a pigeon/dove-like bird thing right around the front of my dorm that is crippled. One of his wings prevents him from flying well. I know this because for a good week and a half, I’ve seen it outside of my window, below on the ground scampering about It flies to the lowest branch (or one of the lowest branches) on a tree close by.
Here’s a random confession. I love injured birds. I don’t mean to sound like a heartless, ruthless, animal hater, yet seeing an animal crippled that keeps trying to fly is astounding. As a child, most of us have dreamed of flying. Any bird or animal that flies has always been slightly majestic to me. Of course, there’s a certain amount of sadness, empathy, and compassion that is felt when one sees a wounded animal. It’s a heartbreaking thing to see. Even so, I enjoy seeing this certain pigeon around. It sounds silly and perhaps overly cheesy and corny, but this fat bird fights. He spends all day fighting. Maybe he’s in pain. Maybe he doesn’t want to fly anymore. But he still keeps trying. He is a bird and birds fly. I wonder if animals that know they could do more but don’t, feel any type of frustration within themselves or become upset with their situations. One could argue that animals aren’t that smart and they don’t understand what is going on around them… or maybe it is arguable that they hate not being able to fix anything about their lives. That’s where my random rant of self-loathing comes in.
Many people have felt that no matter what they do, they cannot fix themselves. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had issues concerning self-loathing and spitefulness towards myself for not being able to make my situations better. As I reflected on my life today, (I was told to) I recalled several times in which I wanted to make a difference for the better and be of good use and I simply was not able to no matter how hard I tried, I still failed at making my world a better place.Family, friends and even irrelevant people around me often influenced my behavior, feelings, and decisions because whenever I’ve loved, I loved hard. My family means the most to me in my world, and it breaks me whenever I cannot fix a situation among out small clan or cannot remedy anything I did or messed up. After a habit of “beating myself up” was unraveled, I was told that “loving hard”, being “sensitive”, or “caring too much” may be gifts, or “blessings in disguise.” For a while (a few moments) I had refused to believe this. I seldom believe I am “good enough” for society, my family, and my friends… No, my issues are not anyone’s fault but my own. My apparent “insufficientness” is not anyone else’s fault but mine. That fat bird asked for no pity or sympathy, yet kept trying to fly That is why this post is not a request for pity, yet a reminder for myself to keep trying to fly. This post is just a connection I drew with a fat bird today. And thus, I opened my mind to believe that being sensitive may be a gift in some odd way shape or form.
Again, that bird has so much significance for me. It still keeps trying to fly to that big oak tree on the other side of the building. It’s quite inspiring. If a bird can push, and not let its feelings dictate it’s attitude, then so can I. I have to deal with the UNO cards in my hand until I run out of cards, then my card dealer can give me some more according to His plan. Regardless of how I feel, I am getting up, growing up, and never giving up. Because I am a bit fatter and educated than that bird, and most of all because my card dealer is full of grace, mercy, and undeserving love for me.
…Momma always said write it down, so you don’t forget.