It’s been a long day

Be like the bird, who
Halting in his flight
On limb too slight
Feels it give way beneath him,
Yet sings
Knowing he hath wings.

— Victor Hugo, “The Bird,” Twilight Songs (Les Chants du crépuscule), published in 1835.


Notes:

Go Fly A Kite

If you can’t access this video, try this link: CBS: Go Fly A Kite

Color the Wind Kite Festival at Clear Lake, Iowa

Flying South Southwest to DFW. Non-Stop. (Not Really)

airport

7:39 a.m. I have an hour to kill waiting to re-board and I’m searching for a photo for this post. I find it on a site titled “Under Heaven.” Isn’t that a coincidence. The photo is a near replica of the skyline that I see from the waiting area at Philadelphia International Airport. A patch of bluest of blues. An orange strip lining the horizon. Sun beaming in through the floor to ceiling windows. A Monday Morning Wake-Up Call. I live. I live. I live. I live.

7:15 a.m. The flight attendant states the estimate for the aircraft repair is one hour. We are asked to take our luggage and deplane. Because 1 hour is an estimate and you know how these things go. But, no one, and I mean no one is complaining.

7:00 a.m. It’s silent in the cabin. I mean Silent. It’s a long approach to the runway. Back wheels bump bump on the tarmac. Front wheel taps to follow. Reverse thrusters slow this 183,000 pound Airbus A321 bird. Whatever thrusters are, I’m grateful. The passengers begin to whisper and the plane taxis to the gate. I’m grateful for Philadelphia. The Liberty Bell. Rocky. Steak & Cheese Sandwiches. The Eagles. All of it. 

6:44 a.m.  The Captain comes on the intercom. “I have control of this aircraft.” And he stops. WTH does that mean? As opposed to being not in control? Noted that he didn’t say: “this is a routine maintenance issue.” I steady my hands, both trembling. No! No! No! No! I’m not ready to leave yet. I’m not looking for a room at the top of the world tonight. Four Seasons. Westin. Marriott. Red Roof Inn, anything. But not there. Not now. Not yet. [Read more…]

Salute! Impossible, not to smile. (120 sec)


Stick with it to the end…

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call


Notes:

  • Photo: Hongkiat (via Your Eyes Blaze Out).
  • Post Inspired by Richard Feynman: One kid says to me, “See that bird? What kind of bird is that?” I said, “I haven’t the slightest idea what kind of a bird it is.” He says, “It’s a brown-throated thrush.” Your father doesn’t teach you anything!” But it was the opposite. He had already taught me: “See that bird?” He says. “Its a Spencer’s warbler.” (I knew he didn’t know the real name.) “Well, in Italian, It’s a Chutto Lapittida. In Portuguese, it’s a Mom da Peida. In Chinese, it’s a Chung-long-tah, and in Japanese, it’s a Katana Tekeda. You can know the name of that bird in all the languages of the world, but when you’re finished, you’ll know absolutely nothing whatever about the bird. You’ll only know about humans in different places, and what they call the bird. So let’s look at the bird and see what it’s doing – that’s what counts.” (I learned very early the difference between knowing the name of something and knowing something.)

And then the butterfly rose, weightless, in the wind

The butterfly’s loping flight
carries it through the country of the leaves…
for long delicious moments it is perfect
lazy, riding motionless in the breeze on the soft stalk
of some ordinary flower…
One or two things are all you need
to travel over the blue pond…
some deep
memory of pleasure, some cutting
knowledge of pain…
For years and years I struggled
just to love my life. And then
the butterfly
rose, weightless, in the wind.
“don’t love your life
too much,” it said,
and vanished into the world.

~Mary Oliver, from “One or Two Things” in Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver 


Notes: Poem – Thank you Make Believe Boutique. Photo: Photomarc by Marc Gijsbers

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call




Photo: (via Your Eyes Blaze Out)

Miracle. All of it. (110 sec)


“The art of flying is a short film about “murmurations”: the mysterious flights of the Common Starling. It is still unknown how the thousands of birds are able to fly in such dense swarms without colliding. Every night the starlings gather at dusk to perform their stunning air show. Because of the relatively warm winter of 2014/2015, the starlings stayed in the Netherlands instead of migrating southwards.”

“The Art of Flying” by Jan van IJken


Related Posts: Miracle. All of it.

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call


Photo: by Toby Melville/Reuters from wsj.com – Thousands of wading birds flying onto sandbanks during high tide at The Wash estuary in Norfolk, England.

5:00 PM Bell! Let them out!

One by one they opened the bird cages, and the sky filled with parakeets, canaries, lovebirds, and finches.

~ Isabel Allende, The House of Spirits: A Novel


Notes: Photo: Jim Bendon (Parakeets). Quote: Hidden Sanctuary

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