About a bird

A post about a new ‘friend’ I made this week

He’s been coming to my window all week.

I believe he’s a Long Tailed Tit.

Tapping with his beak as though it were a tiny fairy door knocker.

Moving his head to the side, making eye contact.

He observes keenly from the quivering flowering cherry.

Then, he boldly darts toward the glass.

And at first

I did what many people do.

I started to create a narrative.

Told myself he wanted to tell me something.

That his visit had a purpose.

I wondered….

‘Who’ had sent him?

‘What’ did he represent?

‘Why’ did he keep trying so hard to reach me?

And so often we do that, don’t we?

Convince ourselves that every little occurrence is a ‘sign’ from the Universe.

Is it?

Or are we just sugaring our bland?

I realised…….

I’d anthropomorphised him.

Cartooned him.

Turned him into a clockwork mascot of magic upon which I could foist wishes and meaning.

I’d made it about me.

And his life was about him.

And so often we do that too, don’t we?

We take the action of another and shrink it to fit our situation, parade it as a dress.

Make their action about us.

No doubt, the boring truth was that he’d probably just spotted his reflection.

He’d wanted to get closer to examine and make sense of himself.

Maybe he’d even fallen in love with the strength he saw in his own wings, the brightness of his own sharp eyes, his ability to command the attention of a room with just a single tiny beak.

And then…..

I realised, that this was an even more beautiful story than the ones I had initially invented.

And so, I decided to keep it.

And so can you.