Apparently dead baby birds can be a symbol of rebirth.
You are the strongest person I know. I've had rage walks, although I never thought to give them this name but it fits so well. No matter what happens going forward, the past is behind you now, although I accidently wrote dead, as in the past is dead and then I deleted to change it but the past is dead.
If I were closer I would make you tea and gingerbread scones and listen. I would give you a hug and then I would take care of Sophie for you for a week so that you could run away and fill your cup.
This reminds me of yesterday when I was telling Hank about a dream where there'd been a lost baby (always lost babies in my dreams) and I found this baby and she ran to me and I held her and she had been so afraid and I told Hank, "I didn't know the name of the baby but I loved her so much" and Hank said, "Well, you hadn't named the baby in your dream but it didn't matter because that baby's name was Mary."
Immediate unedited thought as the baby bird came into view: O my God. Thoughts that rose not long after: Fierce grace (Ram Dass' words). We are baby birds walking baby birds home. (paraphrased from Ram Dass). Sending love to you, Elizabeth
Jesus. (I don't mean that literally -- I mean it as a completely irreligious exclamation.)
I need not add my words to this story, except to say, breathing with you.
I have never stopped and pondered before what the truth of “heart-rending” comes from. This is it.
Oh god. Holy shit. That’s a big, big story.
wait, what? I disagree that you're the baby bird!
What's your interpretation?
Apparently dead baby birds can be a symbol of rebirth.
You are the strongest person I know. I've had rage walks, although I never thought to give them this name but it fits so well. No matter what happens going forward, the past is behind you now, although I accidently wrote dead, as in the past is dead and then I deleted to change it but the past is dead.
If I were closer I would make you tea and gingerbread scones and listen. I would give you a hug and then I would take care of Sophie for you for a week so that you could run away and fill your cup.
Oh, Pixie, thank you.
Cruel world--I love these kinds of postings from you. Thanks for sharing.
This reminds me of yesterday when I was telling Hank about a dream where there'd been a lost baby (always lost babies in my dreams) and I found this baby and she ran to me and I held her and she had been so afraid and I told Hank, "I didn't know the name of the baby but I loved her so much" and Hank said, "Well, you hadn't named the baby in your dream but it didn't matter because that baby's name was Mary."
That Hank is a genius.
Immediate unedited thought as the baby bird came into view: O my God. Thoughts that rose not long after: Fierce grace (Ram Dass' words). We are baby birds walking baby birds home. (paraphrased from Ram Dass). Sending love to you, Elizabeth
Thank you, am. Thank you.
No words.
The poor baby bird.
Oh, Elizabeth. This is hard reading. Beautiful reading. Heart-rending reading. Rage on.
Thank you, Elizabeth.
Beautiful and heart breaking
I wonder if our ancestors felt any more equipped for their lives than we do for ours.
Holy hell. But may I disagree with the therapist? You are not the baby bird. Your wings are formed and powerful. But oh, I know they're tired. Rest.