The Idea of Death; a spray of feathers leading to creative manifestation.

On the grassy path in the wetlands where I often take my dogs for a morning walk, there, just off the water’s edge I could see them glimmering in the morning sun. Some of them still with droplets of dew where the sun had not yet reached to dry the glassy pearls. Feathers, small feathers, some larger, in various sizes and shades of grey, there they lay, like a beautiful spray from a bouquet of delicate flowers that had come loose, separated from one another. Although, some were still clinging together the way they had been torn form their precious body.

Death, bird, nature, featherDeath bird

“Who are we?  What are our chances? Where did we make the terrible mistake we must turn from, or perish?”

These words are in one of  Mary Oliver’s books, that I often take out of my bookshelf and read a few pages.  A favorite poem is The Journey, which I learned by heart many years ago and quietly recite for myself from time to time, bringing insight and curiosity.

Death is everywhere and we choose not to see this. Instead we see birth, renewal, and growth, ignoring the shadow side, without which, none of the burst of growth would be possible. Shadows fascinate and bring perspective both within and without. This morning, the feathers offered themselves to the Idea of Death. The Idea caused a desire in me, the desire to express this Idea of Death. The desire compelled me to think…  thinking created movement, circulation, directions, and wonder, which led to action. The action that I longed to engage in became this writing that I presently do on my laptop, producing the result of this paragraph. The Idea of Death manifested. Yes, there is a certain awakening when following the path of an action from inception to manifestation. However,  I do not see this as a linear process, but rather as an ongoing circle with the capacity to form numerous other circles…. growth and expansion.


Death bird

This morning I met with Death
Tagged on:                     

One thought on “This morning I met with Death

  • 2018-08-21 at 00:00

    Breathing in. Stop. Breathing out. Stop. Death and life – such a circular process. Beautiful.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.