IT'S NOT GROUND I'M STANDING ON
Murmuration from Sophie Windsor Clive on Vimeo.
This video reminded a friend of me.
On the new Alice in Wonderland movie, Alice stares at some birds and says, "I was wondering what it would be like to fly." This reminds my mum of me.
Birds remind people of me. Or I remind people of birds. Flying birds, it seems. I don't know why. I don't mind, actually, I quite like it. But I still don't know why. I know why I think I should remind people of birds, but I also know that my wings are hidden and I am, for the moment, grounded.
I journaled the other day the questions: "Why do I remind people of of birds?" and "What can a bird learn from being grounded?"
Yesterday at work, I had finished the mopping and went back upstairs to put back down the chairs I had stacked on top of the tables. But when I got there, a little baby bird greeted me from the floor with a cry. He had one wing out, and couldn't fly. I picked him with gentle hands and took him downstairs. He fought against my hands a little, but I kept him safe. I waited for my boss, who eventually took him outside and put him in a tree.
A little while later, the bird was carried back inside, having fallen out of the tree and been unable to get back up. My boss got a very tall ladder, and, with the baby bird perched on my open palm, I climbed up into the tree and gave the bird back to his swooping parents.
Too much of a coincidence to have been just a coincidence... right?
When I feel like my wings are hidden, and, though I try, I am unable to fly, could it be that I am being kept safe in gentle hands, by Someone who knows that I can't fly just yet, and would only get hurt if I tried? And, when I'm not fighting, maybe it's not ground I'm standing on. Maybe I'm being carried to the heights I want to fly to on a scarred, open palm.