My deepest apologies for the lapse in posting entries. I have been bananas bonkers busy with work and have filled up my schedule to the brim once more.
Portland life is still lonely, but at least now I have a lot that fills up my hours.
I am doing the aforementioned things of art class (printmaking, which I really enjoy and want to pursue) and volunteering with the Oregon Humane Society ( which has yet to kick off in full force).
For today's post I am recycling one of the pieces I wrote for my writing project with May.
The theme for this one was "I Am Bird". I really enjoyed writing it.
:)
The Last Dodo
Ophelia looked around and thought, "Well, there are worse things that can happen".
But really what could be worse than being the last of your species? We all die, eventually, she thought. Seeing her brethren go the way of, well, the dodo didn't come as a surprise or a shock because it had been a slow wane instead of a fell swoop. As more and more of her friends and family disappeared into the earth from whence they came her thoughts dissolved into the murky indistinguishable realm of trying to decipher the meaning of existence. To no avail, try as she might there was no reasoning that made sense, and being qua being, or existing for existence’s sake seemed just about as pointless as any of the other options.
Her gizzard stone rumbled about in her belly, it had been hours since her last meal. She was hungry but also still mourning the loss of her close friend Clyde, who had died just four hours ago. She decided to go for a walk on the beach to clear her thoughts, and maybe find a snack crawling along the shore rocks. Ophelia had always enjoyed the ocean, something about it made her feel insignificant in a comforting way.
The clear blue skies were always just slightly out of reach, sparkling with the promise of freedom from gravity. A promise broken by a few dark quills on her back, what a cruel joke it is to be a flightless bird.
Bitterness did not become her and with the demise of the rest of her kin she had resorted to thinking about all the ways that things had gone wrong for the dodos. The continuous shift in settlements had made it hard for them to take root in any one place, and their contested relationship with the ravishing sailors who thought them nothing more than tasty tidbits didn't abate the situation either. Even those who had tried to rally for unification and the stability of settlements had been met with resistance movements from factions who believed that constant motion was the only way to evade extinction.
Clearly, they had all been mistaken. There was no way of knowing, of course if it could have been avoidable at all. Once the wheels of destiny are set in motion in a certain direction it would take an act of a super natural force to dissuade them from their course.
She skipped along the rocks until she found an unlucky crustacean scuttling about in a crevice, she scooped him up with her enormous bill, and thought "it's already over for you little dude, I’m sorry".
At 14, Ophelia felt that she had lived a full life, so now that the end was palpably close, it didn't really feel so harsh. She was never one to fear the unknown or the inevitable.
She did miss her family sometimes though, and no logic could think her out of feeling her emotions, and even though she was a simple creature, she fancied herself particularly discerning. Her eyes drifted over the white foam of the surf, the air was cool, and her feathers bristled all of a sudden, the stark absence of companionship washing over her once more.
She thought about the loneliness, really poured her mind into thinking about purpose and reason, and why communities matter so much for a worthwhile existence. Love is the meat of life, it fills us with meaning and aim, and without it we are adrift. A collection of fragmented sentiments floating like flotsam, circling around the emotional stratosphere, yearning for a beacon. There was more to fulfillment than she could explain or even understand, but she recognized its absence. The beauty of the flowers, the crisp of an insect, the wet grass between her toes in the early morning, it all felt empty without someone to share it with.
She thought about Clyde, her friend of so many years. She had never made a connection with someone quite like Clyde, he listened to her and understood where she was coming from. There was never any awkward moments between Ophelia and Clyde, they had known each other only a five short years, and he was a few years younger than her. There was something special about the fact that he had made it through all the suffering and loss with her, by her side, her ally and touchstone. She still couldn't believe he was gone.
There was no way to hold the overwhelming feelings of sadness that engulfed her, she looked up, fixed her gaze on the horizon, and walked into the ocean. She was scared but she kept walking until her three pronged feet barely grazed the sea floor. She had never learned how to swim and found that she was floundering and gasping for air in spite of her intentions, she turned around and found her footing. She waded back to the shore and plopped herself down on the beach coughing and shaking her head. No, she wouldn't do that, nature would take care of it for her, there was no need to fight against the instinct to survive, knowing that she would be crushed no matter what happened.
Ophelia looked up at the setting sun and saw a flock of seagulls flying into the sunset.
What if, she imagined, I was a bird?
I am a bird, she replied to herself almost instantly, and I am the last of my kind.
She took some comfort in that fact now, and as the sun slid into the rims of the mountains in the distance and skies turned flaming shades of orange and pink, she felt lucky and grateful for being a part of the whole mess. She was concerned for those who would live their lives after her, unsure of their futures unlike she had held hers in complete certainty.
An end is at least, a place. A place we are all headed to.
Just like you are now...
Until next time my babies... Expect great things..
