It’s seems so surreal to see something so familiar to you seem so alien to glance at, but I guess it a different land to walk in to begin with. A different world with different rules. But I can’t help to find some strange comfort in all the sights unseen before by my eyes. A world where I accept and understand the rules as comfortably without any trace of hesitation or doubt.
Maybe it’s as close as I can come to home.
It is a bright sunny spring day. The sun shines bright in the sky…much to my displeasure. The air still clings to the faint remnants of winter and the air is…well there is no other way to put it but…the air smells full of life. Life that is about time to wake up to a land deprived of its presence for several weeks. I can see why everyone would love spring time. There is no other time of the season where you’d be grateful to just be alive. Then again…
Nature is a good illusionist.
Today I saw 3 birds. Two large and one small…and the smaller bird wasn’t exactly in the best of positions. It’s not hard to figure out that the two larger birds were the predators and the smaller bird was the prey. In any case…they were doing some very fancy aerial acrobatics…very fancy LOW aerial acrobatics. Flying pass my head more than once in opposite directions. I would have been freaked out if I wasn’t so interested in the fact that something so beautiful such as that would be a matter of life and death.
But that’s the case isn’t it?
While we are here on the ground contemplating our own means of life and death, success or failure. Nature has turned it into an art. An art where predator and prey, hunter and hunted dance eternal the killing dance. One constantly trying to outwit each other in feats of breathtaking moves…where each instinctive twitch, each gracefult tilt, is only a heartbeat apart from living another day or being someone else’s food.
We live day by day without the grace and beauty that nature has given to her offspring because we have forgotten our mother. We have denounced our primal selves in favour of a world we weren’t built to live in. Only very few have lived that small difference between life and death, success and failure and turned it into an art form…without thought and without hesitation.
Only very few have truly lived that life.
Maybe…that’s something I should learn as well.
Relearning to be practical and methodical again isn’t going to cut it if I just appreciate the kill at the end of the day. It isn’t going to cut it if I savour the taste of blood from my prey. No…it isn’t. being practical means turning every move, every step of the way to that end into an art form. Like the master of their skills…even the execution of a killing move is its own beauty.
That is something that’s worth appreciating, living and even dying for.
Maybe it has it’s own reason after all why life turns out the way it does. In your own words…we’ll just have to see won’t we?
As for what I was doing out in the open actually being in the sun I shy away from? I was reading a book waiting for the bus.
As for what happened to the smaller bird? It didn’t survive long after being caught in mid-air by one of the larger birds. Food doesn’t usually doesn’t stay alive when it’s consumed.
But…it’s a beautiful day.
I can’t help but love spring time.
With sights like this…how could I not?