18 Jul 2010

Three Birds

Posted by Oblivion in Philosophy | 10:24pm

There are three kinds of birds.

The first bird is aggressive in flight and defending of its purpose. Aggression is its defence. It revels when you forget to fly, and clips your wings to accomplish its own flight. Ruthless in ambition, it's intolerant to deviations to its trajectory and its care is conditional. If you fail to comply, its eyes are red with fury. The rules are its, the game is its, and it takes you for granted. It is the master, you are the slave. It perseveres to impose its strength. Even when you fly along, it doesn't let you speak. Its delight is in reaching its destination.
The second bird is pliant but firm in resolve. Vulnerability is its strength. It grieves when
you forget to fly and strains its wings to fly even to the end of the world just to see you fly. Unconditional in care and patient with trajectory, its delight is in watching you fly. If you give up on flight, its eyes are red with tears. It cares for you above itself. There are no rules, it is no game, flight is life. It braves devastating gales and rains to stand up for you. It perseveres to remind you of your strength. Even when you can't see it, it's never far enough to not hear your voice. Its focus is flight, not destination.

The third bird is too occupied with its own flight that it doesn't care whether you fly or not, or where you fly to. Its greetings are cursory and its smile is shallow.

16 Jul 2010


Posted by Oblivion in El Eye Ef Ee | 2:47pm

The road was damp. It just stopped raining. The bird fluttered its wings and took to the skies. The leaves drooped with the weight of rain. The baby cried, aching for a reassuring hug from its mother. The flower dropped to the ground, to be crushed by the speeding wheels of the car. The young man behind the wheels jived to the music. The Sun tried in vain to peer through the dark clouds. It would rain again. It was a gentle breeze but it was strong enough to blow the weary leaf off the branch. It would fall. The rain would, too. The buds would bloom.

Sid looked, as he walked, at the clouds. It will rain. Some will dance. Some will die.

There's no knowing when life beats you. Vulnerability is the true measure of strength.

"Guess it comes down to a simple choice really. Get busy living, or get busy dying"
- Andy, Shawshank Redemption