A Place to Fly or Sing

One of the great joys of summer at Merry Mount is watching the swallows glide across the pasture as we mow on the zero-turn, or as we sit observing at “happy hour”.  Yet another joy is listening to our canaries, Yammie and Jussi, as they sing their duet from their cage on the sun porch.

Swallows and canaries are Aves, but are differentiated by Family.

Barn Swallow: Class: Aves, Family: Hirundinidae, Genus: Hirundo

Swallows gracefully execute their aerial acrobatics at amazing speeds, while the canaries artfully perform their trills and melodies while caged.

It is our perception that both are conducting their tasks for our enjoyment, but perhaps the swallows would like to take a rest in the cage, or perhaps the canaries would enjoy being freed to fly the open fields in search of food in order to survive.  We will never know, some things are outside our realm of understanding.

But, what do we know?  Are our perceptions grounded in truth or are we slaves to our own implicit biases?

http://kirwaninstitute.osu.edu/research/understanding-implicit-bias/

It seems that our brains are genetically programmed to instantaneously provide us with information based upon genetically coded experience along with recently experiential data, but, if engaged, the reasoning area of the brain can override implicit bias.  Thus, it behooves us to hesitate, engage our reasoning abilities, listen carefully, evaluate, and then decide whether to offer an opinion.

This task is one that I need to develop.

So as we sit in our place of peace, enjoying the Aves near us, may we be wise enough to gain understanding about who we are and how our actions affect the creatures around us.

I leave you with Maya Angelou's great poem, Caged Bird:

A free bird leaps

on the back of the wind   

and floats downstream   

till the current ends

and dips his wing

in the orange sun rays

and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks

down his narrow cage

can seldom see through

his bars of rage

his wings are clipped and   

his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings   

with a fearful trill   

of things unknown   

but longed for still   

and his tune is heard   

on the distant hill   

for the caged bird   

sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze

and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees

and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn

and he names the sky his own

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams   

his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream   

his wings are clipped and his feet are tied   

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings   

with a fearful trill   

of things unknown   

but longed for still   

and his tune is heard   

on the distant hill   

for the caged bird   

sings of freedom.

CPW