Blue Musing

The day started its rhythm softly, like a whisper, as I stepped outside in the cold mid- March early morning air. A bird fluted sharply through the silent sky, that looked like pale blue gossamer veils stretched as far as I could see. The fluted bird song hit a nerve, and my early morning vague mood got hit with a wave of melancholy. A longing to just stay outside until my spirit blended with the wind and trees. Above me, the pale ink outline of quietly floating seagulls took me back to a similar sight at the seaside when I was still in high school in Belgium. The silence of the spirit searching for its own soul has been a part of me since I discovered  Lao-Tzu ' s maxim, " Silence is the highest revelation". There was a crow perched on the top of a large pine tree above our roof. He or she just sat there, stock still. How awesome to sit up there so high. Below her, we must look like fools, scurrying about like so many frightened ants, day in day out. She took off with a loud squawk, and how I wished I was her in that moment, free, to fly wherever she wanted to. God must have favored birds, because he gave them freedom. He must have had doubts about humans, for we were required to invent bicycles, motor scooters, cars, trains, buses, airplanes and rockets to get around, if we want to cover any distance. Even then, we cannot help crashing those things, or using them to compete against each other, or blow things up, and even kill each other. Yes, give me a bird's wings and freedom any time. Our two cats come and go as they please, come home contentedly after a sojourn through the neighborhood and crash for a happy, long nap. Dogs, like us are bound by some curious necessity commanded by some invisible decree, that they are allowed freedom only if their owners are so inclined to walk or exercise them. So, like us, they spend a lot of time hoping, waiting for that anticipated moment of freedom. I have devoted quite a bit of time and effort in giving locked up and mistreated neighborhood dogs a second chance. Freedom. The birds have it, we as humans do, if we are lucky. If we are not confined due to abuse, illness, prison, a repressive government, war. I love early mornings, any season, any weather, and if the birds are not up yet, or not around yet, I look up at the stars, who, they too, seem to speak of freedom, as they are so far up there, and sparkle, seemingly standing still, but really reminding us of this huge spinning universe, that has us moving so very fast, even though this morning it feels like we are all standing still, body, soul and spirit.